We had just gotten married, it was Spring 1992. I came to my apartment (now our apartment) to find my newlywed wife terribly upset. She had been doing some cleaning and stumbled upon a stash of Playgirl magazines I had (hold your snickers please).
"Do you need to tell me something?", tears streaming down her face, she asked.
I started to explain and it was indeed the start of a long lived lie. I started with a half truth. These magazines were in fact purchased by a former girlfriend. They had been packed up and shipped when I had moved out. That much was true. "But I didn’t know I still had them", I answered, the lie began. "I never looked at them", I dug the lie deeper. "Oh please, do you think I’m gay? Just throw them out", I concluded. She accepted my explanation, I breathed a sigh of relief and the subject was closed.
Fast forward 15 years, my kitchen late at night. She remembers the incident and is now faulting herself for buying my flimsy explanation and not being "smart" enough to catch on. She’s left feeling stupid for missing signals, not recognizing.
I continue to emphasis, "You have done nothing wrong". I can’t say it enough. But she continues to search for fault within herself, powerless to change the events unfolding before her eyes.