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But now my parents were suggesting that something serious was going on. They could say whatever they wanted, but obviously Joe was a committed family man. I had a nice time, but on the drive home, I couldn't stop thinking about what my mother had said after Joe phoned her. "He's lying to you." Turning to my husband, I confessed that I wanted to check out his work computer, so I could reassure my parents they'd made a mistake. I went to his web browser and immediately found a bookmark for a topless site, but he just laughed, saying a colleague had put it there as a joke. With Joe waiting, I scanned the documents he'd saved to his desktop. "I'll stay with you," I finally said, breaking the silence.After a few days of debating whether to bring the issue up, I told Joe what my father had found. I was beginning to wonder what exactly I was looking for when I spied an email from Friend (an early social network and dating site). "But I need to know everything." Joe said there was nothing more to tell. "It's a fantasy — I'm not really cheating on you." After Joe left for the office the next morning, I got up the nerve to log on to his AOL account (I had made him give me his password). When he came back, he was contrite but firm: "There's nothing I can do about the past." Which was true, and I wanted to believe Joe's promise to reform. Something that normally would be no big deal now made me so agitated, I couldn't sleep.At first, he was vague, saying he didn't recall emailing her. I could see that in the past year, someone had been looking at a lot of porn — and all the dates corresponded with our visits.I refreshed his memory with details from her Website. The records also revealed exactly when and for how long each site had been surfed and the dizzying number of return visits that had been made.During the day, his contracting business kept him operating at a dizzying pace, hopscotching across towns and states to meet with clients. He was right there in our living room, laughing about an email from his brother or looking at a site for new gadgets.After those grueling hours, there was nothing Joe liked more than to come home, wrestle with Jamie, rub my back, and crash in front of his computer. Sometimes, though, I would wake up in the dark and find myself alone in bed. "Well, okay, maybe you could give them a call," I suggested, eager to clear the air with my parents.Four years earlier, when our marriage had hit a rough spot, we'd tried therapy. On Jamie's sixth birthday, after he left for a weekend with Joe, I called AOL to separate my email address from our joint account.
If I objected, he would say, "But you're my wife," and continue.
I opened it and read: "Dear Niceguy4u4ever, your profile has been approved. From Joe's online "name," it was clear what he was looking for. When we got home, Joe didn't say much, and I didn't either. In his file of sent messages, one email address looked unusual, so I opened it. Using a different email address and a masculine name, I quickly typed a letter to Heather saying a buddy had recommended her. I don't know what I was expecting, but the photo of Heather, a Las Vegas "escort" with an impossibly proportioned body, was a shock. One night, I took my son, along with some clothes and pillows, to crash in my brother's living room.