There is no good way to get cheated on, although after enough time and therapy, sometimes you can look back on an affair as a blessing in disguise, a life-changing wake-up call, or, at the least, juicy dinner-party conversation. The way someone finds out they were cheated on, however, is never pleasant. Discovering a breach of trust on that level is something you never forget. Here are ten stories — of lube, limousines, and handwritten letters — from women who learned their partners were cheating on them.
She found condoms and lube in his Dopp kit.
Anna, 44, New Jersey
We got married young, had kids, and did all the right things. A few years ago, after 15 years together, my husband got sober, which was great, but it also opened up a lot of soul-searching for him. I think around this time he also had a midlife crisis. So we were in therapy trying to find happiness and balance.
Just before couples therapy one week, I went into his Dopp kit — which was out because we had a family trip planned the next day — to grab a Band-Aid for one of our kids. Inside, I found lube. It was open and used, and definitely not something he had used with me. I also found condoms and condom wrappers. Again, nothing he was using with me.
I went into shock. I didn’t say a word to him. I never, not for one second of our marriage, contemplated him having an affair. It wasn’t something I had any emotional tools for. We’d been married so long. I was so naïve. I just couldn’t compute what I found.
A few hours later, we had couples therapy. I went in there like a robot. Very stoic. As the therapist started our session, I cut her off. I looked straight at my husband — I even put my arm around him — and I said, “Enough is enough with this fake therapy bullshit that you’re pretending to do. We are going to be okay, but I know you’re having an affair, so we are going to change our therapy conversations now to focus on how to move forward with a divorce and co-parenting, and not this other fake existential shit.”
His response? He was mad that I invaded his privacy and had gone in his Dopp kit! He was an asshole about it. We still went on the family trip the next day, and I cried privately the entire time. I didn’t want the kids to know.
Eventually, he owned up to the affair, which had been going on for a while and was very serious, but not before pretending it was a one-night stand with a make-believe woman. He had a decoy story that went on for a few weeks. I had figured out who he was sleeping with (an ex-girlfriend from high school), so I knew his cover-up was a lie. So many lies on top of lies.
I still get sad about the loss of the nuclear family, not the loss of my marriage as much. I cry for my girls, but they are fine. They don’t care. They don’t need to go pumpkin picking as a family. They just want to feel loved by both of us, and they do.
She caught him in a limo.
Mila, 33, New York
My boyfriend owned a few restaurants, which should be a giant red flag in itself. But he wasn’t a typical restaurant owner — he was sexy, yes, but he was also thoughtful, sweet, and smart. We met at a wine-tasting event at one of his places. When we started talking, he was much more grounded than I would have thought for a “nightlife” guy. Anyway, after that night, he was really into me and vice versa.
It was a really strong and healthy relationship from the start. We got to know each other’s families, we said “I love you” after a few months together. We had sex almost every night we were together. I never had any indication of him flirting with other women or being shady, and I’m pretty savvy like that. He worked long, hard hours, but he always stayed in touch throughout the night, was always dependable, and after a few months of dating, he always came home to either my apartment or his apartment, where I’d be waiting for him. That lasted for about two and a half years. We were about to get engaged; I had picked out a ring at his insistence. At 32, I was the happiest I’d ever been.
One day, he told me that a chef friend was visiting from Philadelphia, and they were going to Atlantic City for a fun night with other friends from a restaurant they all worked at in their 20s. This all sounded great to me. He deserved a fun night out!
But my boyfriend had COVID really bad a few weeks before and I was a little worried about him, because he had been so sick. He too was apprehensive about this trip because he knew there would be a lot of drinking, and he was barely back on his feet.
So just before they all took off — they were taking a limo there, being sort of intentionally cheesy — I went to his restaurant, unannounced, to give him a small send-off bag with cough drops, tea bags, Tylenol, and a little love note from me.
As I turn the corner from the subway to the restaurant, I see the limo, and three beautiful women hanging around it, and my boyfriend with two other guys right there too. I froze. Then I saw them all get into the car, and he got in right behind one of the girls, with his hand on her lower back.
I sprinted toward the limo. I called his name. He looked like he’d seen a ghost. I was so overwhelmed in that moment. Nothing made sense. The chef friend he said he was meeting wasn’t in the crowd. I didn’t know any of these people. The women were young and hot and dressed like party girls.
He got out of the limo and we walked around the corner to talk privately. He tried to say something like, “I told you this was the plan tonight — it’s a charity event, they won a night out with me and my staff. I told you, remember?” That was not what he had told me. I had no words. I was just in shock. I ended up walking away because I just couldn’t process the scene.
He got back in the limo and went to Atlantic City. He texted me about 20 times that night reexplaining that the girls were from some charity event. I just bawled my eyes out. I could not sleep. By morning, I decided to break up with him. The level of shadiness was unforgivable.
It’s been hard to recover from him, and he’s tried to win me back, but I also feel relieved not to be with such a dirty guy.
Her phone was connected to the car.
Kelly, 27, Brooklyn
My girlfriend and I had just made things official. We’d been dating for about three months, and we made the decision to be monogamous and take things to a new level together. We were going to meet my parents in the Berkshires that weekend, which was a big step for me since I’d never brought a girl home before. I knew she was coming off a bad breakup with a woman she really loved. Like, they were together for five years, and they’d always break up and get back together again, and it was super toxic. But I was told it was completely over and that they were not in touch and would likely never talk again. So we get in her car to drive to the Berkshires, and she syncs up her phone with the car. We put on some music; I want to say it was Dua Lipa. We were like, “Road trip! Fun!” Then she gets a call and is really weird about the call. And I can see the person is calling, because everything is connected to the dashboard of her car, and that it’s not a random spam number. I’m like, “Pick it up?” She says, “It’s work and I don’t want to.” I am confused at this moment because she’s a teacher and she doesn’t really get work calls on the weekends. Then she gets a voice note, which also pops up on the dashboard. I’m like, “Play it?” My girlfriend is sweating bullets. It’s super intense. She’s, like, fumbling to cover it up, turn Bluetooth off, and delete the text, but she’s also driving, which is dangerous, so I’m like, “What are you hiding from me?” It was chaotic, and I was afraid she would run off the road for a second. She gave me the phone and I played the voice note. It was her ex! It was about upcoming concert tickets she got for them and ends with, “Love you.” I made her pull over.
She told me she reconnected with her ex a few days ago, and they had sex, and they are missing each other, and she’s “all confused!” She didn’t want to tell me until this family trip was over because she knew how much it meant to me. She was so messy. I immediately didn’t love or trust her anymore. It was over for me in that second. We were midway to the Berkshires, so we drove the rest of the way to my parents’ town and I dropped my girlfriend at the closest train station to go home. Ended up crying to my parents all weekend but ultimately feeling thankful I caught her cheating when I did, before things got too real.
His pubes were shaved.
Allison, 40, Los Angeles
He was my boyfriend for most of my late 20s. It was always tumultuous. We loved hard and fought hard. I knew his patterns, and I definitely knew his body. So one week, we got into a fight about the usual stuff (he didn’t make any money, he smoked too much pot, he was lazy), and then he left to “stay with his parents” for two nights. When he came home to our little house, we started to have make-up sex like we always did. However, I noticed that his pubes were shaved — and he always had a big unruly bush down there. I was like, “Where are your pubes?” He seemed caught off guard. His reaction was weird. He was like, “What? Who cares? I don’t know.” Um, how do you not know where your pubes went?
We had the sex, but the entire time we’re doing it, I’m thinking that something is up. Afterwards, he took a shower and I looked at his phone and he had texted his friend that he “banged” some girl last night. He used that word: banged! He got out of the shower. I slapped him, threw him out of our house, and immediately got myself tested for STIs. I came out clean, but the breakup was very hard on me. For some reason, he was a hard one to quit.
He kept extending his trip in Japan.
Amy, 47, New York
My boyfriend of five years was traveling to Japan for work. He often went to Asia for his job, which was in fashion, so I was used to him traveling. He was supposed to be gone for ten days. However, he kept extending his trip without much explanation. He was barely communicating with me while he was there, much less telling me about his travel itinerary. We lived together and shared a life and a dog, and after him being gone for 17 days, almost a week longer than he told me he’d be gone, I got fed up. He was ignoring my texts. I didn’t know if he was, like, in trouble, or sick, or … what?
Finally, he texted me that he would be home tomorrow. He barely explained anything. I just had a feeling he had met someone there. There was such a shift in his texting personality and overall communication rhythm. When he walked in the door, the first thing I said was, “Who is she?” He was tired and wanted to take a shower and a nap before talking about anything, but I kept pushing. “Who is she?!” He relented. It was someone he met at a big, glitzy dinner event on the trip. I don’t know the details. He tried to downplay it and say it was “just fucking” and that he was an idiot and how it was stupid of him and it won’t happen again. But his words felt half-hearted. We tried to work through it for a few weeks. We went to one therapy session, but he was emotionally gone after that. He started taking his phone everywhere with him, never leaving it on the table or bedside. I’ll never know the answer, but I think he wanted to be with that woman, or was already with her. I left him a couple months later, blocked him on social media, and cut all ties.
She saw his credit-card statement.
Tammy, 50, New York
My husband works in finance and makes a lot of money. But he’s also a brainiac and a nerd, and I never thought about him cheating because he’s just not a smooth guy. A few years ago, I asked for a new watch for Christmas. I wanted a Rolex. He always liked when I told him what to buy me, because he had no clue about that kind of thing. He has no interest in style. He was being coy about the watch, and I was curious if he bought it for me or not, so I looked at his credit-card bill, which was easily accessible on his computer. I knew all his passwords — we were married for over a decade and had two kids. I didn’t even feel sneaky looking; it was typical wife nosiness!
But when I opened up his credit-card statement, I saw several charges for the St. Regis Hotel and other hotels in the city. The piece of shit was having an affair. I was completely blindsided. I never doubted his faithfulness. Not a second. I started to hyperventilate. I thought I was going to pass out. The afternoon was such a blur, honestly. When he got home from work that night, I made sure the kids were asleep, and I confronted him about my discoveries. He came clean right away. He was sleeping with his secretary — of course! They were in love. Barf. We were divorced within a year. I got a great settlement because he knew it was all his fault. And they’re a couple now! Disgusts me.
A friend saw what he was doing at Coachella.
Caroline, 27, Austin
My boyfriend loved music festivals. I did not. So he would go without me, and that worked for both of us. I was very secure with our relationship. We lived together. We were talking about getting married and having kids. We were in a really good place.
So, he goes to Coachella. I think nothing of it. On his second night there, I get a phone call from a girlfriend, who is also sort of in that scene. She sounded really weird. She was like, “I have something to tell you, but I don’t know if I should.” She was very nervous-sounding on the phone. She was like, “Hypothetically speaking, if I saw your boyfriend doing something, would you want to know?” I said, “Hard yes.”
She told me she saw him making out with someone at a party the night before. His first night at Coachella. She gave me every detail. I hung up the phone and thought I would throw up. The girl she said he was kissing was someone I know. Someone I considered a friend.
I called my boyfriend right after the call. He screened it. I texted him to call me right away. An hour later, he called. I told him I knew about the hookup. He played dumb. He totally denied it.
He made me wonder if the friend who called me was just trying to fuck with my head. It was all so disturbing, especially since he had another three days at Coachella. He never offered to come home and deal with anything, even though I was crying and very upset. I was spinning out. Those were the longest three days of my life.
When he finally came home, he broke up with me! He said I was acting crazy and unhinged and he didn’t have the bandwidth to deal with that. Somehow I was the one to blame?
A year later, we had a coffee and he confessed to hooking up all over Coachella on that trip. I fucking knew it.
She received a nine-page letter from his mistress.
Scarlett, Miami, 72
I was a working woman with two little children. This was 1981, and women were just starting to say, “I can do it all.” I was like: I can have babies, I can run my business, I can nurse my baby, I can get an M.B.A. while pregnant, I can still make dinner, or have a nanny, and not feel guilty about it, whatever. That’s where I was at age 29.
My marriage was okay. He was also a busy, successful man. We didn’t have any time to connect, but that’s what it was.
One day, I come home from work around four in the afternoon. There were two letters in the mailbox, with the same handwriting. The one addressed to me was nine pages long. His was one page long.
A woman had written to me explaining her entire affair with my husband, everything they had done over the last year. I was stunned. But, honestly, it was also as if the skies parted, the rainbow came out, and my entire life was instantly illuminated. This was the reason my life was not right. I always thought it was me. Everything finally made sense. Why he missed this dinner and that dinner. Why he had to go to that conference. Why he had to meet a colleague for a drink that night.
After reading the letter, I quickly pulled myself together. I packed up the kids, went to McDonald’s, called my sister and my best friend from whatever phone I could find. I told them about the letter and then I sat quietly. I needed to make a plan. I had to get divorced. I had to start a new life. I had two kids under age 5! After McDonald’s, I made a photocopy of the letter and put the original in a safety-deposit box.
That night, my husband came home from work. I said, “We got letters from this person. Why don’t you tell me what’s in this letter?”
He was all, “I can explain.” Oh, please.
The worst part is if I didn’t get this letter, I would have settled for a shitty life. It was a blessing that things turned out this way.
He got arrested at a strip club.
Crystal, 45, Long Island
My husband was a complicated guy. On one hand, he was a wonderful husband and father; on the other hand, he was an alcoholic and had real mental-health issues. So he was always a handful and always causing me stress, but I did not think he was a cheater. A few years ago, I had three young kids at the time, and I get a call from him. He’d been arrested. He needs me to come pick him up. The story he told me was that he went to a strip club to blow off some steam after work — something I never knew him to do in the 12 years I’d been with him. Apparently, he had too much to drink there and tried to beat up a cop. The story was weird and dark, and I’m thinking my husband is really, really insane and needs help. But then I’m reading the police report and overhearing my husband talk to his lawyer, and something about the story is not right. It’s just not making sense. Finally, I overhear my husband tell the lawyer, over the phone while we’re at home, that he’s “seeing” one of the strippers and then I hear the words, “five or six months along.” As in, five or six months pregnant. I almost fell to my knees. I walked in the room and said, “Hang up the phone.” I made him tell me everything. He was in love with a stripper. She was pregnant. And he beat up the cop because the cop was her ex-husband. It was so messy! I was horrified. I called my parents to come over and take the kids while I made my husband pack up and leave. We are divorced now, and he’s been sober for two years, and we are actually friends — but I’m glad he’s not my problem anymore.
It was an emergency and he wasn’t picking up his phone.
Kelly, 30, New York
My boyfriend of a year said he was meeting his college best friend, Tim, at a steakhouse for a “guys’ night.” I didn’t think twice about it. I stayed home and while making myself a salad, I ended up slicing the slight tip of my pinky finger off. There was blood everywhere and I was screaming in pain. The little pinky tip was dangling off, and I wasn’t sure if I needed an ambulance. I managed to call my boyfriend, with blood all over my phone, and he didn’t pick up. Then I called Tim — I had his number in my phone from a group text we were all on. Tim was like, “Um … shit, yeah. I’m not with him. I’m not even in the city.” So where the fuck was my boyfriend? I started calling and texting him nonstop. I was gushing blood, and crying, and losing my shit. Finally, he picked up the phone. He said he was getting in an Uber. When he got to my apartment, the bleeding had stopped a bit, but I was a mess. I had blood on my face, in my hair, everywhere. He sat me down, because I was in a fragile state, and said he was with another woman who he’d met at the gym. He didn’t want to lie to me anymore. It had been going on for a few weeks. He suggested we become ethically nonmonogamous because he was still in love with me but had to see where things were going with her, but it was a little too late for that conversation. We agreed to break up. It was the worst night. I still have no feeling on top of my pinky, and it’s been six months. I never went to the hospital. Maybe I should have.
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