The man I’d spent so much time with and shared so many pieces of my life with was a seasoned liar. Plain and simple. Now, with the latest addition of Carol*, the total number of ex-wives had climbed to three- two more than Nigel had first reported to me.

As Nigel’s lengthy messages explained, Carol was a long time ago, before Karen* and Helena*. He was a young scared teenager and so too was she- his teenage bride.  The two of them had gotten married after what was quite literally a bloody abortion. Nigel quickly realized his mistake- their marriage was not something he had really wanted. So, he decided to end it.

He was sorry that he had chosen to lie to me. He wished he had shared all of this with me from the beginning. But, he was so sure (again with that same old excuse) that had I known the sort of life he had lived, I would not have given him a second look. He reminded that he had told me before that he’d lived a lot and seen a lot- all of this was part of what he meant.  He knew that by telling me the truth, he risked losing me, but, he just had to follow his relative’s advice and come clean with me.

I sat for a long time trying to analyze what I was feeling. I tried to understand why this latest discovery was proving more devastating than any of the others. I mean, he had lied to me before about just as big things. How was his lying about three ex-wives worse than his lying about two? And what makes a man lying about the number of ex-wives he has any more horrible or less forgivable than lying about his own daughter?  Could I do as he asked, recognized that at least he did tell me the truth and try to forgive him?  Thinking about the whole thing made my head hurt.  I didn’t want to think. I didn’t want to analyze.

Now wasn’t the time to be sensible and question whether or not I had wanted a serious relationship with Nigel.  Nor was it the time to accept that from the very beginning I’d seen all the little signs and hints which were now making a whole lot of sense. It wasn’t even the time to wonder if I was hurting because I felt foolish or because I’d actually cared for the man.

Now was the time for wanting a passive and normal breakup- complete with the placid “it’s not you- it’s me” lie or something similar. More than anything, I wanted to sleep this one off and wake up to discover that everything and all of his lies weren’t true. The truth was hurting a lot more than I could have ever expected.

*Names have been changed.

Coming Next Saturday: What Now?