My husband found out I was cheating. I’m scared by how little I recognize myself now.

I’m a little ashamed to admit all of this, but I was talking about it with a Redditor who seemed to enjoy my story and told me I should actually post it somewhere.

I’m 34F and married to a man I love very much, but things between us have slowly fallen apart over the last two years. He decided to work enough for both of us so I could quit my job, stay home and spend more time on something I’m passionate about. I know how cliché that sounds. But somewhere along the way I started getting lonely and bored, and I began allowing myself to enjoy attention from other men. First it was just flirting. Then I stopped saying no.

I ended up having affairs with four different guys. Three worked at a factory nearby, and one was a receptionist at a hotel downtown. They were all Black. I don’t even know if that part matters, but apparently it became a pattern before I was really willing to admit it to myself.

I honestly don’t know what I thought I was doing. It felt like I was just going further and further because part of me already knew there was no way I could hide it forever. Eventually something ridiculously small exposed me: my husband found a condom wrapper in the trash. Different brand. Different size from the ones he uses.

That was it.

We agreed that he would stay in the house and pay for a hotel room for me while we took some time apart. I saw him yesterday. Neither of us really knows what happens next.

I don’t even know why I’m telling strangers this. I suppose part of me needs somewhere to say it out loud. And apparently some people find the whole thing exciting, which somehow makes me even more embarrassed about admitting the rest.

The first night after I checked into the hotel, I barely even unpacked before I texted one of those men. He came over and we slept together.

My husband called me seven times while I was in bed with him. I didn’t hear my phone once.

That is probably the part that makes me feel the worst. My marriage had just fallen apart because of what I’d been doing, and instead of stopping, crying, or trying to fix anything, my first instinct was to call another man and do it again.

I feel like I’ve become someone I don’t completely recognize. And the part I’m most ashamed of is that it scares me almost as much as it excites me.