This is a true story about a honeymoon confession. It was a confession that would forever change a couple’s destiny.
She’d met him in college and it was love at first sight. They both liked cats and dogs, poetry, astronomy, and long conversations.
They’d dated for a year before he took a job out of state. She was heartbroken and afraid she’d never see him again. He said not to worry and promised he’d still come to see her on weekends.
She attended college and lived for the weekends when she’d see him again. He would drive for three hours to see his family and she’d drive an hour northeast to meet up with him at his parents’ house.
It was a crazy romance, and she couldn’t wait to be in his arms again. During the long weeks, she couldn’t focus on her college classes — all she did was write lovesick poetry and think about him.
Her friends brought her to college parties, where she often met men who wanted to date her. One of them was lovestruck by her and always seemed to appear at every party she was at. He kept asking her out, but she was firm. She was taken. He had no chance with her.
Another college friend asked her for a lift back to his apartment one night. They stopped and picked up some takeout on the way. He was a gorgeous man, and when she dropped him off at his place — he leaned over to kiss her. She turned away.
“I have a boyfriend,” she told him. “I’m sorry. I can’t.”
She remained loyal to her boyfriend. Her heart was true.
They’d call each other on the phone late at night. She loved to hear his voice. She’d wait all day for that phone call.
One time he came to her college apartment on the weekend. They fell into each other’s arms and never left the room. His visit went by too fast.
The marriage proposal happened one lonely night, on a phone call. Her love was tired of being alone, and he said they should get married. She should arrange it with a priest. She was overjoyed, jumping up and down, alone in her college apartment. At last, the two of them would be together all the time. No more missing him every minute.
Soon she dropped out of college and took a job. She and her Mom prepared for the wedding. Her Mom complained she wasn’t really engaged because there was no engagement ring. Yet she felt confident that he would come through with it.
She couldn’t wait to introduce her fiance to her work friends — they’d never seen him and wondered if he really existed. She arranged for him to drive to her workplace and pick her up one Friday after work. He got stuck in traffic and was an hour late. Her coworkers grew tired of waiting, and she was embarrassed. Then they all went home, leaving her there alone waiting for him.
By the time he showed up, she was furious. She scolded him for an hour, as they headed to their destination. When they stepped out of the car, he handed her a tiny box in the parking lot. Nestled in blue velvet was a golden ring with a sparkling diamond. She threw her arms around him, but he wasn’t smiling. She had ruined their moment and felt terrible.
He told her he had the engagement ring reset — it belonged to the girl he once loved who had given it back to him when they broke up. She was shocked when she heard this, but she loved him so much, she decided to let that slide. Still, she wondered if this was bad luck.
Their wedding day was perfect. The sun dazzled outside after morning rain. They took photos in front of a mansion and married in a cozily lit church. The reception hall was perfect — with elegant place settings with china on pink tablecloths, the band was the best in the area and played music to please every generation. Their names glowed on a billboard outside, in a ritzy venue by the water, with boats gently bobbing on the waves.
They headed down south to Florida for their honeymoon, and he immediately got a sunburn the first day by the pool and spent the rest of their honeymoon in pain, complaining. She was disappointed, but she stayed in the room with him, loving every second they spent together, even they didn’t get to see any of the sights on vacation.
On the way back home, his sunburn had healed. They stopped at a fair and took some epic photos of the two of them, young and newly married in front of the exhibits at the fair. She felt carefree-they had their entire lives ahead of them.
When they arrived home at his apartment and brought their suitcases in, she couldn’t wait to pour some wine and celebrate their marriage.
“We’re home,” she thought, with a smile. She cuddled with him on the sofa. She was so excited and happy to be his wife. The wine flowed and so did the conversation.
She thought about the guys at college that hit on her.
“You know, I never cheated on you before we were married,” she said, smiling in his arms.
“And I never cheated on you,” he paused, “except once.”
Her jaw dropped. “What?”
“I met her at a bar. We came back to my apartment and we had sex. It didn’t mean anything. We were drunk.”
“But we were engaged,” she said, trembling. Tears welled up in her eyes.
“Why are you making such a big deal? We weren’t married yet.”
That evening she went to bed crying. All night she thought of her love, in bed with another woman. She started coughing the next day. She broke out in hives. Her ankles were swollen and she couldn’t walk without pain. She stayed in bed.
“This is ridiculous,” he said the next evening. “I didn’t sign up to be married to a sick person.”
That night he went out with his friend and left her alone, still in shock.
The honeymoon was officially over.
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This post was previously published on medium.com.
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Photo credit: Damir Spanic on Unsplash