I Met My Husband’s Mistress, Looked Her in the Eyes, and Didn’t Say a Word

What I would do differently if I had a second chance at an uncomfortable first impression

Photo by Max Titov on Unsplash

My husband was a cheater. I do not know how many affairs he had. I don’t know how many women he wooed when he should have been home with me and our dog. What I know is that the number is greater than none, and even one affair — one mistress — is too many.

We took vows. It was his duty to uphold his end.

Let me start by saying that I do not consider myself an expert in infidelity. I am, however, an expert in my husband’s infidelity, and by the end of our marriage, my own.

I can’t remember exactly how I found out who she was, the woman I think of as “mistress numero uno.” Mistress X? Mistress Zero?

I met her once on the street corner where she spent much of her time. There was a food truck parked on that corner until the wee hours of the morning, and that greasy-burgers-on-wheels mobile eatery attracted the local motorcycle club members and their assorted hangers-on, and she was one of the hangers-on.

Usually, while my husband hung out with his buddies by the food truck, I stayed home and tried to sleep without him in our bed. It wasn’t that I…