My Wife Cheated, But I got fucked

What had she done? And why?

I went back to the bathroom where I had left my phone while I showered. I opened it. All my stuff was still there. Tried to log in to our investment accounts … no luck. Tried to log in to our bank accounts … no luck; credit cards the same thing. All the passwords had apparently been changed.

I called her parents to see if they could shed any light.

“Hello,” answered her father.

“Have you heard from Carol?”

“Of course.”

“Where is she?”

“We don’t know. All we know is that you turned out to be another no-good piece of shit and will never see her or Cheryl again. She couldn’t stan to face the humiliation of another divorce, so she took Cheryl and left.

“Why? What’s going on?” I was in a daze and my mind couldn’t absorb what was happening.

“You know good and well ‘what’s going on.’ Don’t ever call here again.”

I stood looking at my phone before I put it down. Then back to the office and frantically searched through every piece of paper in, on, and around the desk. I even dumped the paper shredder to see if there were any unshredded hints there. By midnight, I had still found nothing. Sunrise found me going through all of the papers for the third, fifth, or tenth time … I’m not really sure how many times I combed through them. Or the closet. Or the attic. Or the garage. Or her car.

With the exception of a few remaining clothes, she had done a good job of ridding the house of any sign of either her or Cheryl.

At 8:00 AM, I called the police, but received only sympathy. In that it appeared that she chose to leave of her own free will, they could do nothing; but they would make a report of my call. Then they wished me good luck. Big deal!

I stumbled through the rest of that day; and the next. I called all of our friends that I had numbers for. Same with her friends; then my friends. I was limited as to who I could call because I didn’t have all of their numbers on my phone and her phone had been wiped clean.

I walked around our neighborhood and knocked on doors asking about her. Then I got in my car and drove to those friends I couldn’t walk to. I called both of her brothers and received only threats of violence if I ever called them again.

On Monday morning, I called my boss and filled him in; then I called our investment counselor. He was surprised to hear from me. “She cleaned out the account, Sam.” He said. That’s my name. Sam. Samuel Conley. “Last Friday. She told me that the two of you had decided to move and that you had gone on ahead. I had no reason to doubt her.”

I headed for my car to get to the bank.

At the bank, I found out that there was nothing left in any of the three accounts; checking, savings and vacation fund.

I had nowhere else to go, so I went to work and sat in my boss’s office. We talked for a long time. The same thing had happened to his sister several years ago, but her husband had come home three weeks later with most of what he had taken with him.

His advice was to “Sit tight and wait her out.” Whatever “snit” she was in would be over soon.