“The Lord is near to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit” (Psalm 34:18). Hi everyone. My name is Ope. I am the husband of a sex addict. Last week, I spoke for the first time, after attending for three months. I was encouraged by a lot of your testimonies, as well as your…
“The Lord is near to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit” (Psalm 34:18).
Hi everyone. My name is Ope. I am the husband of a sex addict.
Last week, I spoke for the first time, after attending for three months. I was encouraged by a lot of your testimonies, as well as your feedback from sharing mine. I went home resolute and determined to keep fighting for my marriage. However, I got home to find that my wife, Promise, had packed out of our home.
I was heartbroken, but found the strength to go after her. I knew where she would be. I’d known about her affair with one of our neighbours for a while now. So his place was the first place I checked. And surely, she had packed three suitcases to move in with him.
There are no words to explain the agony I went through that night. My worst nightmare had come true. And I was afraid that it would happen again, that she would keep trying to leave me. However, I was determined to keep fighting, to keep defying her attempts to break me and make me hate her.
The day after I brought my wife back home, we found out that she is pregnant, and the baby can’t possibly be mine. That realisation was like the shocking bolt of reality on the joke that has been our marriage. She didn’t show any shame or remorse at what she had done, and only seemed more determined to leave me. For a while, I just sat on the floor crying my eyes out. It was all I could do. I eventually got up to find her packing again to leave, and for a moment, I thought to let her go. I mean, how much more could I possibly endure?
But I considered that she was only running because she didn’t believe I could love her unconditionally or that she was deserving of my love. The baby was not the problem. The pregnancy was not the sin. Her unfaithfulness was, and I had already forgiven her for that. We just had to face the consequences now, and I was ready for us to do it together. I was ready to be a father to her child, and to love her as I had always done.
So I challenged her on her decision to leave, and told her that the baby doesn’t change anything, and that she was only running. I was surprised when she admitted it, and said that she would have the baby just to spite me. She actually told me she doesn’t love me anymore, but I still didn’t believe her. Even still, it hurt badly.
It wasn’t until we went to the hospital to get a check up on her health status, and I found out that she’d alerted the Police and tried to make me out to be an abusive husband, that I realised the hate that has been brewing in her heart for me. At that point, I was really beginning to think she was right, that I didn’t know her at all. Of all the evil she has done to me, that was probably the worst.
I realised she was simply lashing out at me because I was forcing her to stay, when she would rather have abandoned our marriage. I decided that if she wanted to leave, there was nothing I could do to stop her, and prayed that I would have strength to keep chasing after her in any case. I eventually left her at home to go to work. My heart was figuratively in my mouth, when I told her what I would like for dinner, hoping she would be home when I returned, but afraid that she would run away as soon as I departed.
However, I was not prepared for what I saw when I returned home that evening. My wife had not prepared any dinner as I had hoped. But she also had not ran. The house was dark, and there were sounds coming from our bedroom. There were strange sounds, and I wasn’t sure if she was watching TV or with company.
I hastened to our bedroom only to be hit by the most horrible scene I had ever seen in my life. Two men and a woman were in bed with my wife, having an orgy, and she was dressed as a dominatrix, with a dog collar around her neck, and demonic horns on her head. A man was digging into my wife from the back, while the other woman was giving the second man, who I recognised as our neighbour, Tony, a blow job.
The scream that left my mouth alerted them of my presence, and my wife looked up at me from her position and didn’t even move. She just smiled wickedly at me, while the man kept at his bumping and grinding. They were not stopping, apparently undeterred by my presence.
I shouted at them to get out of my house, but they didn’t answer me. The man banging my wife began to climax and Promise was giggling sadistically, probably at the horrified look on my face. I will never forget the words she said to me, while I stood, paralyzed by the scene. She said, “You can hate me now!” and continued laughing, as the others joined in.
In that moment, I ran out of the door, as if it was not even my house. I ran to my car and drove away. Where I was going, I didn’t know. Whether I would ever return to that house, I didn’t know. I was running…not only from her, but from God. I was running from His call on my life, because I couldn’t bare it anymore. It was an impossible mission, a hopeless cause. Why He would call me or any man to suffer such a horrible fate, I didn’t know.
I could no longer justify her actions as simply a reaction to the abuse she suffered as a child. I could no longer see her as an innocent victim, who is simply doing what comes naturally to her. Her actions that night were pre-meditated, to hurt and break me, and I think she has finally succeeded. I finally see that I married a monster, and I care little now how she became a monster, because I know that she has chosen to ignore my love and hurt me with all her being.
I don’t know what more I could have done. I really wish I could have helped my wife, I wish I could have loved her enough to stay and keep fighting. But I’m tired of trying to prove that I can take anything she can dish out. I can’t. And I won’t. Not anymore.
I spent the night at a hotel, too afraid to return home, to be tortured by the memory of my wife defiling our marital bed. The woman who I loved and knew would never have done what she did, no matter what anyone had done to her in the past. Even if she was sexually immoral, my wife was kind and thoughtful and considerate. She wasn’t the horrible person I saw mocking me in our home and dishonouring our marriage and my God.
The next day, when I returned home, she was gone, just as I expected. Every trace of her presence in our home wiped out, every evidence of our marriage erased, just as every memory of our love had been destroyed by her incessant betrayal. I had no more tears, nor fight. I had done more than most men would do, and I was done. All that was left for me was depression.
That night, I had my first taste of alcohol at a bar in the city. I have a hereditary liver condition, which means that I am not supposed to drink any alcohol. However, I was determined again to spend a night with a prostitute, and this time, I wanted to be liquored up. However, I ended up drinking myself to the ground, as I prolonged the main event. I never made it to the Brothel.
In the morning, I woke up in my own bed, in my house, wondering what had happened to me. I knew someone was in my house, because I could hear some clattering in the kitchen. For a crazy and joyous moment, I sat up in bed relieved, thinking that my whole disastrous marriage had been a horrible dream, and that my wife was still at home, making me breakfast. In anticipation, I waited for her to come through the door of our bedroom and greet me with a kiss.
However, it was Cindy who popped her head into my room to check on me, and smiled when she was that I was awake. To say that I was shocked to see her is an understatement. For another scary moment, I wondered if I had slept with her last night, horrified at the irony, if it was true. She said “Hi” to me at the door, and presented me with a drink, saying “Drink this. It will make you feel better.” It was apparently a mixture to counter hangovers. It was absolutely awful.
I started to ask her if we had slept together, not sure which answer I wanted to hear. It really didn’t matter if I had slept with her, because Promise couldn’t have cared less about me, or what I do, so it wouldn’t have been pay back. For me, it was more a right of passage…into being the bad broken man she had made me. I had hoped it would have been the release of my pain and grief too. But if I had slept with Cindy, that would have been…unforgivable.
Cindy shook her head and joked. “I’m a good girl now, remember?”
I was relieved, and then curious about how she had gotten into my house. She recounted how she had found me spewing nonsense outside a bar, on the same street as the Bakery where she worked, last night. She had used my driver’s license to locate my home, and so she brought me home in a cab. She decided to sleep on the sofa until the morning. I thanked her for her help.
She asked about my wife, and I told her that it was over, and that she left me, after showing me in the worst possible way how much she hated me. Surprisingly, Cindy said, “She’ll be back”. I asked her how come she thought so, and she said, “It’s a cruel world out there, and soon she will realise her mistake. Guys like you are one in a million. I should know. And besides, I believe in God.”
With the amount of alcohol I took the night before, I was actually surprised that she hadn’t found me dead. I remember wishing to die with each glass I consumed, knowing that I was damaging my already crippled liver. But surprisingly, it seemed all I suffered was some embarrassment and a hangover. Normally, I would say it was by God’s grace that I had been saved…but I couldn’t understand why God would do such a miracle, and yet not stop my wife from destroying herself, our marriage and me in the process. I couldn’t see His plan anymore.
I don’t have the strength to hope that my wife is coming back. I don’t want to live in waiting for her second return. I know that hope keeps many alive, but hope deferred makes the heart sick. And my broken heart can’t take any more of her careless treatment. I wish I came here resolved that I still believe in God’s plan for my marriage. I wish I had a testimony to tell you, about how things have improved. But all I have is reality. And reality stinks.
Right now, my battle isn’t hanging on to the love I had for my wife. My battle is believing in God, my first love. I am wondering if I haven’t wasted ten years of my life, thinking He is real, and trying to do the impossible in my own strength. Once again, I find myself at breaking point…with no one to help me but Him.
Thank you for listening to me. I would still appreciate your prayers.
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