Disclaimer: This content is intended for audiences over the age of 18.
Editor’s Note: All of the pieces in this series are written by anonymous writers. This allows them to talk about subjects that are sometimes tough to discuss. Please keep in mind how difficult it was for this writer to share these thoughts when commenting.
He stared at me.
My heart drummed heavily inside my chest. I twitched my fingers. I couldn’t meet the eyes boring into mine. What was going on in his brain? What words were on the cusp of his tongue?
I wanted to scream. Hit him. Hurt him. The painful silence told me what I needed to know.
“Yes.”
My world crashed into numb realization. I heard nothing but the reverberating affirmation in my ears.
“Yes. I cheated on you.”
* * *
Every year in my garden, a beautiful white trumpet flower appears. The Wild Morning Glory seems innocent enough, a favorite of my children, picked and added into a mother’s dream bouquet of dandelions and crabgrass. Behind the flower’s childlike charm, however, a deep secret hides: This sneaky, dangerous vine strangles the life out of competing flowers and weeds. If left alone to fester, a Wild Morning Glory’s roots can grow the length of a house, remaining deep and dormant in the ground, safe from futile attempts to eliminate the entirety of the weed. Pulling only the vine fixes nothing and, instead, causes a Medusa-like growth rate for new vines. Furthermore, at the first sign of warmth, these roots spring into action: While people are enjoying the tulips and daffodils of spring, the Wild Morning Glory creeps and grows into an invasive web of vines. By the time these charming flowers blossom on the rapidly entangling plant, it’s nearly too late. The strangling vines responsible for the seemingly innocuous flowers trap and choke the life out of other flowers, vegetable plants, and fruit bushes.
The beauty of the little white flowers masks the deadliness of these snaring, deeply rooted vines.
After learning of my husband’s affair, questions spewed out for weeks. The whys, hows, and how-could-yous dominated every conversation. But through my hurt, my grief, and my pain, I saw it. The reason for my husband’s rapid moral deterioration. It began as a seed. A curious, demanding seed that, when planted, festered and grew and entwined its way into our lives. It squeezed the life and passion out of our marriage. It had wrapped us with tight vines and had planted its deep, addictive roots into our home.
It poisoned him. It poisoned us.
It was pornography.
