The Infidelity Victims’ Club

TELLING THE STORY

The A.I. voice is familiar as the narrator sets up the story. They only use 3–4 voices. The visuals are what we might see driving 30 mph on an attractive suburban boulevard: trees, a hillside, nice homes, a few other cars. We’re moving at a steady pace. Where are we going? What does this have to do with the story? We are in constant motion, though. I keep expecting the car to crash.

The voice begins:

My name is Joshua Wells. I am 41 years old, in good health, and thought that I had done all the right things on my path to success. I am an architect, and proud of my work.

Joshua Wells’ tone is troubling.

Laura and I have two wonderful children, Emma (age 9), whose resemblance to her mother is unmistakable, and Jason (age 6), a quiet, watchful boy who keeps his thoughts to himself.

Where is this going?

When Laura was promoted to Textile Purchaser on the heels of the county awarding me a subdivision contract, we had reached the financial promised land. We celebrated with champagne and caviar at a restaurant that had previously been out of our league. I recall the joy of that night with a painful jolt, knowing what I know now. The innocence of our early days is a mockery — of me. Trusting, earnest, diligent — the qualities of a dupe.

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THE HOOK

Is anyone unclear about what will be revealed? It’s not terminal disease. Their children weren’t kidnapped. A house Joshua built did not collapse on anyone’s head.

It’s infidelity. Laura has taken a lover.

We’re listening to a new YouTube sub-genre: men deeply hurt, humiliated by their wives’ affairs, and the revenge they are able to obtain because of their meticulous planning and steely self-control.

I began to notice a change in Laura. She was becoming less considerate of me, as on a few occasions she worked late and didn’t call. She began taking extra care with her appearance: trying on outfits, waking early to spend more time on her make-up, buying new shoes. I rationalized both her distance from me and the new attention to how she looked as the demands of her new position.

Here we have the first convention of this “Righteous Man Betrayed” genre:

The husband suspects and then discovers the affair. If she defiantly said, “I’m going out tonight, don’t wait up and don’t look so hurt, it’s just a little fling,” (there are stories with this premise!), the revenge becomes the entire plot.

One variation is the full-company debauchery: a core group organizes unique sexual experiences on company retreats, and the wife of a mid-level manager is lured in and it’s soon public, but the husband refuses to participate and eventually goes nuclear on her and the sex cabal.

The Discovery scenes can be mundane. For Joshua Wells it’s answering their home landline: a pleasant female voice lets him know the item his wife left at the Marriott Hotel yesterday evening will be at the front desk to be picked up at her convenience.

I thanked the caller. The Marriott? Laura had told me the project crew was meeting at the warehouse where the imported fabric is processed as they wanted to view the production set-up. Now my doubt had a shape.

We have moved through these pillars of the Infidelity Revenge plot:

Equilibrium: The conditions of normalcy — the brief backstory of the couple, their work, their children, the middle class suburban house, the friends and status within the community.

The Unsettling: hints that something is wrong, changes in behavior and/or personality, mild suspicions that grow, a sense of unease.

The Recognition: evidence, proof, knowledge, discovery— the husband sees the couple, or finds receipts, or views something in a phone, or receives a call ………

Creating the Plan: the plot that will lead to The Confrontation — often culminating in a public humiliation, by which point the husband has zeroed out the joint accounts, closed credit cards, hid assets in his business to minimize personal income, compiled evidence that implicated her affair in the neglect of the children.

Laura                                                                Laura Wells

SEPARATING THE MEN FROM THE BOYS

There is never a question of reconciliation in these stories. The couple is history. One half just doesn’t know it yet.

Our protagonist now projects the manhood that was robbed from him by his wife’s adventures. Joshua prioritized his kids and compiled his team— a private investigator, a divorce lawyer, a financial advisor, a sympathetic co-worker of his wife’s who kept him updated on her activities.

The lover is Michael Christopher, a hotshot from a rival architectural firm. Laura had met him at an event she had attended with Joshua, a new layer of disrespect. Once Joshua was certain, the P.I. installed a GPS tracker and microphone in Laura’s car, arranged for surveillance at their place of banking and The Marriott, and placed cameras and microphones in their home. Joshua handled these details with icy precision.

For the audience, this interval is deeply satisfying: with each move we get to imagine Laura Wells’ panic as a few banking details seem off — a statement was ordered of which she knew nothing, a credit card is declined as a limit had been reached; a Marriott reservation was for the wrong day. She has been gaslit, begins to doubt reality. Too nervous to say anything to her husband, she had enough alternatives to work around the problem areas. With the P.I. keeping him informed of these incidents, Joshua Wells grows in stature with each clean, competent blow.

THE REVENGE PLOT

The first surveillance photos and recordings told more than Joshua cared to know. ‘You have the truth now — no uncertainty,’ the P.I. said. Marshall North was a man of few words, but he added: ‘A man deserves the truth.’ Joshua noted the rare expression of emotion from the former Marine sniper; Marshall North had his own story to tell. Joshua Wells was in good hands.

‘We have enough now,’ Joshua’s lawyer said at some point. ‘Don’t torture yourself.’ He put aside the audio tapes, the photographs, the narrative reports; he locked the new financials in a wall safe, combination changed, fingerprint his alone. He arranged for a civic appreciation event, finalized his presentation. It was inspired, precise, flawless work — but joyless, brutal, corrosive.

On the day of the event, unaware of what her husband was about to do, Laura was frazzled and distracted. Another bank report had been ordered. She could sense doom’s dark approach, but from which direction? Michael Christopher was up for a design award; at The Atrium on the day of the event Michael’s crass wife touched up her make-up every five minutes and texted feverishly when not locked into her mirror. Joshua Wells was the M.C. and award distributor, appearing in every photograph, the recipient of overjoyed embraces, sloppy kisses, crushing bear hugs and uncoordinated high-fives.

The design award, in a bit of an upset, went to a paraplegic inventor just arrived from Hyderabad in central India. Sarika Singh, age 32, had designed a combination mobility device, spine stretcher, exercise machine, strength conditioner and pleasure enhancer adaptable for intimate activity. Michael Christopher fell into a mean funk; his wife stormed off and did not return. Michael sat alone with a bottle of Scotch.

Closing the awards, The Critical Support Services plaque went to Karl Marovič, a custodian who had been an engineer in Bosnia-Herzegovina until war had leveled his small city and America opened its arms. Milena, Karl’s wife of 47 years, accompanied him to the stage. ‘I do nothing in this life, nothing, without this woman,’ Karl tells the audience.

                                                                           Sarika Singh

Joshua Wells then spoke with profound sentiment. ‘I have been but a humble builder,’ he said. ‘At times, in order to build, I needed to tear down structures no longer useful.’ He signaled for the lights in The Atrium to be dimmed; the sun had just set and they were in a watery backlit rain forest. ‘Some things stand alone and need no explanation,’ he said, then clicked the remote twice, and the presentation launched.

Joshua had created a flawless example of the essential art of social annihilation.

It began slowly, developed its theme inexorably; soon there were gasps and cries from both the presentation and the audience. Joshua clicked the still images forward. One slide held the core values of Laura’s textile company: IMAGINATION. INVESTMENT. INNOVATION. INTEGRITY.

‘Yes, integrity,’ Joshua reinforced over a babble of Laura and Michael’s recorded dialogue: No one suspects …… they couldn’t imagine ……. he’s a good baby-sitter ……… at the end of the day, everybody wins, some people just win more than others…………fools get what they deserve ……….

Their town’s motto flashed: To each, the power and space to fly high; to all, the faith and trust to build together.

‘Faith and trust,’ Joshua intoned. ‘To build ……. together.’

‘I didn’t know he had it in him,’ whispered an impressed female observer.

‘Unfortunately,’ Joshua commented as he clicked open a short video of the lovers stumbling into a hotel room, clothes in varied stages of removal, ‘our fine community also offers many opportunities for the disloyal. But don’t worry; those of us who build will never let your property values fall due to whispers of scandal. We come right out with it — here it is, the poison, the cheaters. We hold the parties accountable.’

Laura froze, sitting at a table not far from the stage, next to the award- winning Sarika Singh, who put her hand atop Laura’s. A statuesque black woman stood, almost spoke out, but departed silently. Michael Christopher began emitting a growl, shifting in his seat, ready to pounce, explode, collapse, disintegrate. A murmur arose; two couples left angrily.

Joshua Wells, his physical whereabouts unknown, closed the proceedings with a disembodied voice as attendees looked frantically for his location. ‘Thank you for taking this journey with me. How unfortunate that it has come to this, but we awaken tomorrow to a less compromised world. Thank you and drive home safely.’

At that moment Michael Christopher stood, emitted a bellow that echoed in the enclosed space, and lurched forward, gripped a chair to keep from falling, but only delayed the inevitable — he eventually crashed to the floor. Seven law enforcement officers converged at the architect’s thrashing figure, arresting him for embezzlement and forgery. The crimes had been uncovered during Marshall North’s investigation and turned over to local police.

 .                                                                       Michael Christopher

‘Look up,’ Joshua cried as an intoxicated, incoherent Michael Christopher was escorted from The Atrium. Joshua stood on a high ledge at the upper reaches of The Atrium and when eyes were on him he leapt into the air. Gasps and screams were heard as he plummeted downward….. but Joshua Wells was strapped to a zip-line hidden in The Atrium’s canopy, and slid down to floor level gracefully, to a smattering of applause.

HOLLOW VICTORY

This genre offers no mercy.

With the Affair Partner facing prison, Victory, hollow but necesssary for our collective psyche, continues to be all-encompassing.

Once the carnage of The Confrontation was complete, we quickly moved through the final pieces to wrap up each plot line convincingly. Like the precision planning, the thoroughness of closure was deeply fulfilling. In a world run amuck, control had been re-established.

We learn that Michael Christopher’s wife left the country, pulling joint assets with her as she jetted off to parts unknown, thanking Joshua Wells for exposing the whole sordid mess. The embezzler agreed to a plea deal of five years in State prison and $250,000 in restitution.

Laura Wells (neé Orland) was ruined, of course. She was awarded minimal alimony for 6 months; they split the proceeds of their home sale 80/20 as Joshua was to be handling the children’s expenses. Laura was allowed supervised monthly visits with Emma and Jason. She lost her job because she could hardly perform through a deep depression. Her parents did not answer her calls. She drank excessively, gained 25 pounds and eventually joined Alcoholics Anonymous, began the gut-wrenching task of writing out her apologies per Step #5, Admission to God, self and others.

She took on a job waiting tables at a diner a few towns away. Joshua and the kids happened to stop there on the way to the home of Joshua’s new girlfriend, the lovely Sarika Singh. The new couple went on their first date the week the divorce had become finalized.

‘Hi, mommy,’ Emma said to her frazzled mother at the diner, sitting in a booth and holding the menu like a grown-up, ‘what do you recommend?’

Have I left anything out? It would be a disservice to the genre if I did, because these tales sew up every loose end. Anyone remotely connected to the infidelity must pay. It’s like the code of ethics that used to guide criminal shows in the 1950s: the bad guys must be caught, no one gets away with anything, sin is punishable on Earth as well as in the afterlife — leading to the irrefutable truth that crime doesn’t pay. That was the role played by Michael Christopher. Someone had to go to prison.

Joshua Wells is our social conscience, a beacon of traditional values. I take my vows seriously, he told Laura when she suggested an open marriage.

.                                                                              Joshua Wells

We are rewarded at the end with the new equilibrium in the figure of Joshua Wells, in whom manhood has been restored. Our world is intact again.

Laura thought she could play this game without consequence, that I was too distracted to notice, and even if I did, she could smooth it over and her comfortable life would not be unsettled. It was a monumental miscalculation. It turns out she didn’t know me at all.

META MEANING

A You Tube Cheating Wife Snapshot narrated by the aggrieved husband through an A.I. voice on a platform called Slake Blake. Sub-genres include interviews with couples who have experienced infidelity; a few therapeutic sites on how to survive cheating; and the popular confrontational shows where non-licensed “investigators” track down the cheater and bring the partner along, then stage the confrontation

THESE PODCASTS HAVE A LARGE FOLLOWING: there are now as many as a dozen producers, combined audiences in the tens of thousands. We’ve even had a female narrate her own infidelity, telling of the moral inventory she took after being found out and rejected by the community.

I know now that I made poor choices, and have paid the ultimate price for my sins. I can’t ask for forgiveness, so I only hope my children don’t hate me forever. When I see how strong and healthy my ex’s relationship is with his new partner, I realize the problem was me, not him.

Within this male-oriented genre, the need for comprehensive Victory extends into the psychology of the defeated wife. She accepts her fate, and warns the next generation.

What is happening out in the world that gives life to this particular type of storytelling? Is it common that 10–15 year suburban marriages experience female infidelity in this very specific way, and the men react in their very specific way?

Are we perpetuating gender stereotypes with this genre? The women are seeking love, or a romantic spark. The men, power and pride taking a big hit, act swiftly to re-establish dominance. Wives cease to exist as people — once the line was crossed, there may be deep pain, but the men deal with it through the mechanisms of the divorce settlement. We’re back at the economic imbalance of prior generations — in this genre the wide gap in control is not a social evil, but the desired outcome: You want to fuck around? the wronged husband asks. Not on my dime. Now live with it.

Is there a latent misogyny here, or a patriarchal social order re-emerging? It is not unreasonable to listen to a few of these podcasts and believe they are written by the bitter Incels, the involuntary celibates, the millions-strong men’s movement claiming that they are permanently denied entry into the world of romance and sex, denied conjugal rights that in extreme cases they believe are theirs and will take when moved to do so.

But despite surface commonalities, these podcasts are unconnected to the hate forum groups. The original inspiration for this genre came from a reddit subgroup for husbands whose wives cheated. These stories don’t come off as hate-driven. The real-world tales of husbands home with the kids as the wives gallivant around town are primarily concerned with dinner recipes, soccer pick-ups and divorce details. The online community kicks into action to support the dejected victim — but this is not the raging madness of an Incel apocalypse. These are hard-working folks trying to pull what dignity they can from situations they never thought they would face.

Large questions linger.

Is marriage defunct? Have sexual urges gone through the roof? Or is social media only bringing to light what was always there? Are women spoiled and men weak? Is monogamy a fantasy ideal, the polyamorous lifestyle too unconventional to last a lifetime, and since a compromised monogamy is what we seem to practice — is our best option to learn how to navigate it?

Joshua Wells would not agree.

And, finally, what role does A.I. play in all this? Is it too easy to conjure up a plot formula and reproduce it, tweaking this or that, putting it online and watching the hits and the income pile up without considering its potential harm?

What does seem clear is the need to tell this story of men hurt by their wives’ infidelity. That’s right, I say to the A.I. faces on my IPad as the cheating story ends and the man doesn’t play when his waitress ex-wife is looking to rekindle a memory, You don’t live there any more. Stay strong!

But who am I talking to? And why do I need to wipe tears from my eyes?