Before I met Jay*, I had only been in one other relationship. It was a guy I met in college and we quickly became serious.
Before I knew what was happening, the feelings of my first love drowned me and everything else in my life took a backseat and I ended up spending every waking moment with him and his family. I did. His family loved me and had high hopes for the future of our relationship.
My own friends and family were concerned about how involved and invested his family was, especially his mother. They forced me to remember what I loved before I met him and gently encouraged me to set boundaries. I didn’t. Eventually, the meddling and meddling became too much and the relationship fell apart. This fallout was traumatic for all of us.
Video: The Mama Mia team admits the moment they knew it was time for divorce. The post follows the video.
It took me a while to dip my feet into the dating pool again, but when I did, the walls were so high that no one could break in. The first time we talked about their mothers and home life, I was out the door. Then I met Jay.
Jay was aloof and the complete opposite of my first love. He is an only child and lost his parents in a tragic car accident when he was young. He survived the crash and was raised by his maternal grandparents, who also died.
I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that not having his family was a huge draw for me, but that wasn’t the only thing. We were very compatible and quickly became the envy of our friends.
Two years later, we got married in a small civil ceremony attended by my parents and two of my best friends. Soon after, we made plans to start a family. I will be a stay-at-home mom and Jay will support us by running a thriving electrician business.
Having three children brought to light some challenges in our relationship that I had been thinking about behind the scenes. Jay was a liar. The big, little, pointless lies weren’t what bothered me when I found them, but they weren’t enough to cause any major conflict.
That was another thing, Jay wasn’t a fighter. He was great at smoothing things over and was a true expert at understanding what I needed from the conversation and providing it. It was a strange feeling, in theory I felt like I was being heard, but I was never satisfied with how the conflict unfolded.
I tried to go along with it while my friend complained about his partner, but I couldn’t make him feel bad. It was an intangible “something” about him that I couldn’t explain.
Our other main issue was that Jay didn’t want to travel anywhere. He grew up in Western Australia and often talked about the beautiful paintings he made of the coast and its people, but when I suggested we go look, he became upset and dismayed.
Even the idea of traveling up and down the East Coast was laden with excuses. He was too busy with work and worried about traveling with his children because of his past, so he said, “Maybe next summer.” Twelve summers have passed and he hasn’t budged once. When I brought up the idea of going to Bali with friends, he became almost catatonic.
I attributed it to the trauma of losing his parents at a young age and tried to focus on all the good parts of our relationship. As the kids grew up and we grew out of our jaded phase, we sulked less and returned to the easy-going companionship that characterized the beginning of our relationship.
It was one phone call that changed everything. I wasn’t planning on staying home, I was planning on going to basketball practice with my oldest son, but he sprained his ankle at school so I had to take the afternoon off.
I answered the phone with a basket of laundry on my hip. I answered the phone, pressing my cheek against my shoulder as I searched for all the children’s shoes scattered near the back door.
I wish I could remember the exact conversation. I remember several exchanges as I tried to explain to the woman who called me that she must have the wrong jay and that the jay that lived here didn’t have a mother. I also remember getting irritated by her intrusive questions and cutting her off by saying, “Sorry, I can’t help you any more. I have to go.”
Ten minutes later, the house phone rang again, and this time it was my son who answered. “Hmm, someone on the phone is saying she’s our grandma. She’s dad’s mom and she just found out about us.”
I got even more irritated and snatched the phone and told him to stop calling because I had called Jay by mistake. She was persistent and I told her that since I was busy I wrote down her phone number and had Jay call and they could resolve the issue themselves.
She was still talking and I was about to hang up when I heard her say: “I know you’re confused, but we hired a private investigator to find you. We knew Jay was lying about having a family.”
I knew then. Like a bolt of lightning, the conviction that this was true struck me. I sank into the lounge as she continued talking.
Jay’s parents did not die in a car accident. They were doing well and living with his two brothers in his hometown in Washington state. His maternal grandparents were still kicking, too.
Although they were in regular contact with him, they had not physically met for over 15 years.
He said he moved regularly for work, had no home base and had repeatedly canceled plans to go home for Christmas, always at the last minute. He was also sending them money to help with the bills.
She was still talking when Jay came in the door. He knew something was up and started mimicking questions as I held the phone to my ear. In response, I turned on the speaker on my phone while maintaining eye contact with him, just as his mother told me that Jay had always been a “fabricist” and that they had kept him a secret all his life. That’s when I started to explain that I was beginning to suspect that this was the case.
He barely reacted. A sort of determined, almost relieved look appeared on his face, and he shrugged ever so slightly.
That sent me. All my frustrations about years of white lies were poured out. I threw the house phone even though his mother was still talking. And then, completely blind, ran out of the house in shocked anger. I called my best friend who had come to pick me up, and together we tried to process what we had just heard.
It’s been 12 months since that phone call. Jay has moved away. We went to counseling but there was no solution. Everything I’ve learned about his family and childhood is positive. There was no abuse, no running away, no hiding.
The most frustrating part of the whole thing is that Jay doesn’t give any reason for his lie. He couldn’t explain anything about it, just said he was doing too much, was running away, so there was no reason to change anything.
If that happens, there will be no place to land. You can’t get over the lie and go around in circles, but no reason is offered and you can’t get over the lie.
There is so much that can be salvaged from our relationship, but more and more I feel like I have to let it go. A breach of trust is a very big chasm, and it could be the end of us.
*Names have been changed to protect privacy.
The author of this story is known to Mama Mia but remained anonymous for privacy reasons.
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Featured image: Getty.
