Reddit Stories - Spouse was UNFAITHFUL to me with SEVERAL ladies at a stag CELEBRATION while

Episode Date: July 16, 2025

#redditstories #askreddit #aita #relationships #cheating #infidelity #marriage #betrayalSummary: Spouse was UNFAITHFUL to me with SEVERAL ladies at a stag CELEBRATION while dealing with the aftermath of this devastating betrayal.Tags: redditstories, askreddit, reddit, aita, tifu, relationships, cheating, infidelity, marriage, betrayal, spouse, unfaithful, stag celebration, trust, heartbreak, forgiveness, communication, honesty, loyalty, supportBecome a supporter of this podcast: https://www.spreaker.com/podcast/reddit-stories--6237355/support.

I hope you enjoy this story. Spouse was unfaithful to me with several ladies at a stag celebration while I was at home with our infant, then discovered he contracted an illness from a harlot. Family as demanding I take care of him. So, me, 32F, and him, 35M, let's call him Dale, we've been married for six years. Together for eight. We have a toddler, Emily, who's three, and a newborn, Sean, who's just two months old. Two months.

I'm still bleeding sometimes, my hormones are all over the place, I'm barely sleeping more than two hours at a stretch, and I've been handling pretty much everything with Sean because Dale was, you know, giving me space or overwhelmed by the baby cries. Translation, he was playing video games with noise-canceling headphones or suddenly had a million things to do outside the house. Before all this. God, it feels like a lifetime ago. Dale was.

Okay, I guess. He was never super hands-on, not really the nurturing type, but I figured he was a good enough guy. Steady job, paid his share of the bills. We had laughs. I thought we were solid. Clearly, I was an idiot. He always had a bit of a selfish streak, a bit lazy around the house, but I picked up the slack. I always did.

that's what you do in a partnership. Turns out, I was just enabling a leech. The pregnancy with Sean was rough. I had morning sickness well into the second trimester, then sciatica so bad I could barely walk. Delivery wasn't a picnic either. Long labor almost ended in a C-section. And then you're home with this tiny, screaming human and another little one who needs you. And your body feels like it's been through a meat grinder. I was exhausted, an emotional wreck and mostly alone in it. Dale would pat me on the shoulder and say, you're doing great, babe, then disappear. About six weeks postpartum, Dale announces he's going to a bachelor party for his college buddy, Scott. Three days, out of state. My first reaction was, are you fucking kidding me?

I hadn't slept properly in weeks. I was covered in baby vomit. half the time, and Emily was acting out because her world had been turned upside down by the new baby. Me, now? You want to go away now? Dale, babe, it's Scott. I'm the best man. It's been planned for months. Me, and Sean's arrival was planned for nine months. I need help, Dale. Dale, my mom can come over. You'll be fine. It's just a few days. I need this, I'm stressed too. Stressed? From what?

Avoiding diaper changes? He went, of course. I was furious, but too tired to fight him properly. His mom came for a few hours one day, which was more hassle than help, honestly. She just criticized my housekeeping and told me I was spoiling Sean by picking him up too much. When he came back all smiles and missed you so much. something was off. He was jumpy with his phone, like, always screened down, or he'd angle it away if I walked past. He was weirdly defensive if I asked basic questions about the trip. It was just

guys being guys, you wouldn't get it. Then he started being mean. If I was emotional, which, hello, newborn and no sleep, he'd say I was being hormonal and irrational. If I brought up feeling overwhelmed, he'd sigh dramatically and say, can't I just have some peace when I get home from work? He started picking fights over stupid things. The house isn't clean enough. When was he going to clean it? Dinner isn't what he fancied. I was apparently letting myself go. This from a man whose main contribution to child care was complaining about the noise. The phone thing really got to me. He'd take it to the bathroom, even for a shower. One night, I just asked him straight up.

Me, is there something on your phone you don't want me to see? Dale, what the hell kind of question is that? Of course not. Me, then let me see it. Dale, no. It's my privacy. Why are you being so paranoid? You're acting crazy.

Me, I'm acting like a wife who's seeing a bunch of red flags from her husband who suddenly acts like his phone is a state secret after a boy's trip. Dale, you need to chill out. Seriously. It's probably your hormones making you suspicious. There's nothing going on. Gaslighting, he made me feel like I was losing my mind. I started doubting myself.

Maybe I was being overly sensitive. Maybe the lack of sleep was making me paranoid. About two weeks after he got back from the trip, I got a message request on Facebook. It was from someone I didn't know. a woman. The message just said, you should probably see this. And there was a photo attached. It was Dale. At a club, lights flashing. He had his arms around this blonde woman, face buried in her neck. Her hands were all over his ass. They were basically dry humping on the dance floor.

It wasn't just a friendly hug. I couldn't breathe. I recognized the shirt he was wearing. it was one I'd bought him for his birthday. Turns out, the woman who sent it was the girlfriend of one of the other guys at the bachelor party. Her boyfriend had drunkenly shown her picks from the night, and she, felt I had a right to know. His own friend had taken the picture. I waited till Emily was asleep and Sean was finally settled.

Dale was on the couch, gaming, headphones on. I walked over and just stood there until he noticed me. He pulled off his headphones. What's up? I didn't say anything. I just airdropped the photo to his phone and watched his face. First, confusion. Then dawning horror.

Then his face just crumpled. He looked up at me, eyes wide. Dale, where did you get that? Me, does it matter? Is it you, Dale? Is that some random woman you were grinding against while I was at home, drowning in diapers and exhaustion? Dale, babe, it's not what it looks like.

We were all drunk. It was just some stupid dancing. Me, dancing? Dale, you look like you're about to screw her on the dance floor. And what happened after the dancing? He just stared at his hands. Silence. Me, did you sleep with her, Dale?

More silence. His face was pale. Me, did you sleep with her? I was yelling by them. Dale, mumbling, yes. Okay? Yes. I was drunk, it was a mistake, it meant nothing.

A mistake. It meant nothing. While I was recovering from pushing his child out of my body. While I was caring for our children. Me, a mistake. You lied to my face for weeks. You called me crazy. You let me think I was losing my mind.

You watched me suffer. Dale, I didn't want to hurt you. Me, well, congratulations, you failed spectacularly. The argument was, ugly. He tried to blame the alcohol, the guys egging him on, even me, for being distant since the baby. I just saw a red. I think I scream things I don't even remember. At one point he tried to grab my arm, to make me calm down.

and I slapped his hand away so hard my palm stung. I didn't sleep that night. I just sat on the nursery floor, holding Sean, watching Emily breathe on the monitor. My world had just imploded. The man I married, the father of my children, was a liar and a cheat. And worse, he was a coward. The next morning, I started packing. Dale tried to stop me, begging, crying. Dale, please, don't do this. We can fix this. I'll do anything. Me, no, Dale. You did this. There's no we fixing it. You broke it. I can't even look at you. He followed me from room to room, whining and pleading. It was pathetic. He didn't get it. He still thought he could talk his way out of it. I called my sister,

and told her I was coming to stay with her. She just said, I'm on my way. Leaving was chaos. Trying to pack for myself, a toddler, and a newborn while Dale was either underfoot trying to help, which was just him getting in the way and looking pitiful, or yelling about how I was overreacting and destroying our family. My sister arrived like a cavalry charge, took one look at my face, one look at Dale, and just started loading bags into her car.

She didn't say a word to him. The silence was more damning than any yelling. The last thing I saw was Dale standing in the doorway, looking lost and pathetic. The first few weeks were a blur. My sister's place isn't big, but she made it work. I cried a lot. I was angry. I was numb.

Trying to breastfeed a baby when your stomach is in knots from stress is a special kind of hell. Emily was confused, asking for her daddy, and that just broke my heart always. over again. My parents, once they got over the shock, were supportive too, in their own way, mostly by bad-mouthing Dale, which, honestly, helped. I initiated no contact with Dale. He blew up my phone for a while, texts, calls, voicemails. Ranging from I love you, I'm so sorry, please come home to your being vindictive, you're keeping my kids from me. I blocked him. All communication had to go through my sister.

So, that was a month ago. I'd been slowly trying to piece together some semblance of a new normal. Looking into daycare for Sean so I can eventually go back to work, trying to find an apartment. Then, three days ago, I get a hysterical call from my mother-in-law, Ruby. Dale is sick. Really sick. He finally went to a doctor after feeling like crap for weeks, and he got some tests done. Turns out, his one-night mistake at the bachelor party wasn't just with some random woman

he met at a club. According to what he eventually admitted to his mom, and what she sobbed down the phone to me, after the club, he and a couple of the other guys went and got hookers. And the one he was with, well, she left him with a lifelong parting gift. Dale has HIV. He didn't get it from the woman in the photo. He got it from a prostitute he paid for later that night. So, he didn't just cheat once. He cheated multiple times in one night, and one of those times was with a sex worker. And he lied about all of it. Now, his whole family is blowing up my phone. My mill, Phil, his siblings. They're all saying the same thing. He's devastated. He's terrified. He needs you. You're his wife. It's your duty to

come home and take care of him. In sickness and in health, remember? They're painting me as this cold, heartless bitch for not immediately rushing to his side. His mother actually said, he made a mistake, but this is a tragedy. He could die. Don't you have any compassion? What about your vows? I told her my vows didn't include caring for a man who deliberately deceived me, exposed me, and potentially our unborn child, at the time, to God knows why. I'm and then lied about it for weeks. I told her my priority is my children and my own sanity. I told them I want a divorce. The backlash has been insane. They're calling me cruel, unforgiving, selfish, saying I'm abandoning him in his darkest hour, that I'm a terrible person.

Dale himself has been sending messages through his mom, saying he's sorry, he knows he messed up, but he's scared and doesn't want to be alone. I've made an appointment to get myself and Sean tested Emily to just to be safe, though the chances for her are minuscule unless I contracted it and passed it during pregnancy-slash-birth with Sean, but I have to be sure for everyone. The thought that he could have infected me, that I could have unknowingly passed something to Sean, it makes me physically ill. I haven't told them this part yet. I want to know my status first. I feel like I'm standing my ground, but the pressure is immense. They're making me doubt my own resolve sometimes, even though deep down I know I can't go back. Not after this. This isn't just

cheating anymore. This is a whole other level of betrayal and recklessness. So, I'd offer refusing to go back and care for my HIV positive husband who cheated on me with multiple people, including a prostitute, lied about it, gaslit me, and only confessed the full extent when he got a life-altering diagnosis. I just need to know if I'm seeing this clearly or if I'm the monster they're making me out to be. Update 1. Wow. Okay, first off, thank you.

Seriously. I posted that rant a week ago in a state of absolute turmoil, half expecting to be told I was a cold-hearted bitch or something. The sheer volume of support has been overwhelming in a good way. I've read every single comment, even the tough ones. It's given me a lot of clarity, or maybe just solidified what I already knew. but was too scared to fully stand by because of all the noise from his family. To answer a few common questions, we have two kids, Emily, three years old, and Sean, now

nearly three months old. Yes, the friend who took the photo, his girlfriend sent it to me. I have no idea what his motivations were for taking it, but I'm weirdly grateful. Small mercies, I guess. The timeline, he went to the bachelor party mid-March. I found out about the cheating, the club girl, mid-April and left immediately. Found out about the HIV diagnosis and the hooker at the very end of April-slash-early May. No, I had absolutely no idea he was capable of this.

None. Looking back, were there tiny signs of selfishness? Yes. But soliciting a prostitute and lying about an STI? Never in a million years would I have guessed. A lot of you were, rightfully, screaming at me to get tested ASAP. That was already in motion when I posted, but the anxiety was eating me alive. Many of you also mentioned legal counsel.

Yep, way ahead of you there. Reading your comments was like having a hundred's voices affirm that I wasn't crazy. That my anger is justified. That his family's demands are utterly insane. They're grieving, scared, whatever, but they're grieving, scared, whatever, but they're that doesn't give them the right to demand I sacrifice my well-being and my children's future for the man who did this to himself, and by extension, to us. The in sickness and in-health line they keep throwing at me?

As many of you pointed out, that implies a partnership, a two-way street. It doesn't mean signing up to be a caregiver for someone who willfully destroyed the marriage, lied, and endangered your health through deceit and recklessness. The fact that it's now a biohazard is his problem, not mine. My decision was already 99% made, but reading through the experiences and advice here just cemented it. Divorce isn't a maybe. It's a definite.

My kids deserve a mother who isn't broken, and I deserve a life free of his. Contamination, in every sense of the word. After hours of thinking these are the steps I decided to take. One, testing, this was priority number one. I took myself and shone in for blood tests the day after I found out about Dale's diagnosis. Emily too, though the doctor reassured me the risk to her was incredibly low unless I was positive and it was transmitted during the pregnancy or birth of Sean, which would imply I was infected before Sean was conceived or very early on, which is a terrifying

thought spiral I went down many times. The wait for the results was the worst three days of my entire life. Pure, unadulterated terror. Every itch, every slightly warm feeling, I was convinced it was a symptom. My sister basically had to sit on me to stop me from Googling symptoms 247. 2. Lawyer, I had my first consultation with a divorce lawyer. I laid out the whole story. She was horrified but very professional. We've started the paperwork. She advised me to keep all communication with Dale and his family documented, or better yet, routed through her. 3. Informing the in-laws, officially, after getting the test results, more on that in a sec, I had my sister call my mill. My lawyer advised it, sort of a cease and desist with the harassment.

Official proceedings are starting kind of message. My sister is much better at staying calm and just stating facts than I am right now. And these were the outcomes of those steps. 1. Test results, negative. All of us. Me, Sean, Emily. Negative for HIV, negative for everything else they tested for. When the doctor told me, I burst into tears in her office. Two, the in-law's reaction, predictably, not good. After my sister's call, my mill, Ruby, somehow got my new temporary number,

must have wheedled it out of someone, and left me a voicemail that could curdle milk. Ruby, voicemail, so that's it then? He gets a scary diagnosis and you just throw him away like trash. After he gave you a home and children, you're a cold, vindictive woman. I hope you're happy when he's all alone and suffering. This will be on your conscience. He's your husband. I played it for my lawyer.

She just raised an eyebrow and said, save that. The rest of his family has gone quiet, for now, probably regrouping to figure out new ways to call me Satan. Three, Dale's reaction, he's tried to reach out directly, mostly pathetic texts relayed through people because I still have him blocked everywhere. I'm so sorry I scared you. I'm glad you're okay. Please, can we just talk?

I need you. Need me for what? To change his adult diapers in a few years? To be his emotional punching bag? No, thanks. Hard pass. My lawyer is sending him the official separation agreement and divorce papers next week. So, that's where we are.

Relieved about the tests, stealing myself for the divorce battle. It's going to be ugly, I know it. His family will likely try to drag my name through the mud. He'll probably play the victim. But I have my kids, we have our health, and I have a damn good lawyer. Thank you all again for listening, it meant more than you know. I'll update again if there's anything significant to share, but honestly, I'm hoping for a period of boring, uneventful peace while the lawyers do their thing. A girl can dream, right?

Update 2, hello again, everyone. It's been about eight months since Update 1. So, roughly nine months since D-Day, or HIV Day, as I've morbidly started calling it in my head. I promised an update if anything significant happened, and well, things have certainly happened. I'm hoping this will be the final one because, frankly, I'm exhausted with this whole saga and ready to close this particular book. The divorce is done, finalized a few weeks ago, and it was an absolute shit show, just as I predicted. Dale, spurred on by his charming family, tried to make things as difficult as possible. He actually tried to argue for shared custody of Emily and Sean, with his lawyer even hinting that my vindictive nature and leaving him when he was sick

and vulnerable made me an unstable parent. My lawyer just about laughed them out of the room, then calmly presented the timeline of his deceit, the exposure risk to the children, and the fact he'd barely changed a diaper in his life, let alone been a primary caregiver. Thankfully, the judge saw through it, and I have full physical custody. Dale gets supervised visitation with Emily at a designated center. Sean is still too young, and honestly, the risk of Dale's negligence is too high for my comfort with an infant. These visits are conditional on him being up to it, proving he's following his medical

protocols, and isn't a risk. So far, he hasn't taken up many of the offered sessions, usually excusing himself by saying he's not feeling well. Financially, they tried to argue he shouldn't have to pay much child support or alimony because of his medical condition and reduced earning capacity. Again, my lawyer was a very good one. She pointed out his condition was a direct result of his own actions and infidelity, and that he was working and earning fine before he decided to decimate our lives. The financial settlement is fair, not generous, but it's enough for me to get on my feet properly with the kids. As a small silver lining, he had to sell his precious car. The harassment from his family, particularly Ruby, his mother, didn't let up for a long time

either. There were accusatory texts, calls to my parents, and even a few veiled comments on my sister's social media. My lawyer sent another, more strongly worded cease and desist, hinting at harassment charges, and that mostly shut them up. They still glare daggers if we ever cross paths, as we live in the same general area unfortunately, but the direct attacks have stopped. From what I hear through the grapevine, because I sure as hell I'm not asking, Dales not doing great. This isn't just physical, with the HIV, he is apparently struggling with medication side effects and has been sick a lot. Mentally, he's a wreck. Most of his friends, including the ones from the bachelor party, have distanced themselves. Apparently, word got out about the hooker and the

HIV, and suddenly he's persona non-grata. It seems the bro code doesn't cover lifelong STIs. Scott, the groom whose bachelor party it was, is reportedly furious with with Dale for the drama he caused. He also lost his job. It wasn't directly because of the HIV, as that would be illegal, but his performance tanked, he was out sick constantly, and they found legitimate reasons. So, his fears of reduced earning capacity became a self-fulfilling prophecy. His parents are supporting him now. Ruby still occasionally tries to send messages through third parties, since I have her blocked everywhere, saying I should find it in my heart to forgive and show some Christian charity. I find it in my heart to press delete. As for me and the kids,

this has been the hardest part, but also the most rewarding. Finding a new rhythm as a single mom to a toddler and a baby is no joke, and I'm tired pretty much all the time. But it's a different kind of tired now. I found a small apartment, Emily has her own little room, and Sean's crib is in with me. It's peaceful. Emily still asks about her dad sometimes. I'm honest with her in an age-appropriate way, telling her, Daddy made some big mistakes and he's sick, so he can't live with us right now. It's heartbreaking, but I won't lie to her. She sees him occasionally at the supervised visits, and they're just. Okay. He looks tired and sad. She's usually happy to see him but also happy to come home with me. Sean, on the other hand,

is a chunky, happy baby. He's rolling over and giggling, and he'll never remember any of this drama, for which I'm grateful. I've started some freelance work from home and I'm looking into part-time daycare for Sean for a few hours a week so I can take on more. My parents and sister continue to be an amazing support system. So, that's it. The divorce is final. We're safe, we're healthy. Dale is living with the consequences of his actions. His family can think whatever they want of me. Their opinions don't pay my bills or soothe my crying baby at 3 a.m. Am I happy?

Not in a giddy, life is perfect way. I'm still healing. I'm still angry sometimes. I still mourn the family I thought I had. But I am at peace, more so than I've been in years. Thank you all, again, for being a sounding board when I was at my lowest. for the advice, the support, and for making me feel less alone in this nightmare. Hopefully, this is the absolute last time I'll ever need to post about Dale and his mess.

We're moving on. Take care, everyone.