I suppose you’re wondering why this note has been left for you on the mantelpiece. Don’t worry, all will become clear by the time you get to the end. First off, I’ve left you. I can’t say I’m leaving you, as that has been happening, by degrees, ever since you had that affair at work. Oh, I know we went to counselling and both worked on our issues. I know we said we’d both try harder. But all my soul searching has led me to one irrefutable conclusion: I can’t be with you any more. That doesn’t mean that I don’t care about your well-being. Fifteen years of what was once a happy marriage can’t all be undone, even by your infidelity. I want you to be happy, but I want me to be happier more than that.
You’re probably wondering what did it, whether there was something you said or did that finally pushed me over the precipice? Well, it wasn’t the second affair – the one you thought I didn’t know about, with one of your sales reps, even though the scent of her perfume on you after those conferences used to make me want to retch. But, for the sake of everything we’d worked for, I tried to get beyond it.
No, my light bulb moment, when I got wise to the fact that it was always going to be like this from now on, was when you suggested we didn’t need to go see someone anymore and air our dirty laundry in front of a stranger. Because, you see, I kept on seeing him. And, over time, I started to see a pattern, going all the way back to my first boyfriend – the one I told you about when you accused me of being insecure. You were right – I did have a problem after all. And now I’ve decided to fix it.
It’s important that you don’t misunderstand me when I say that I don’t want you to come and find me. I know exactly what I’m doing, perhaps for the first time in a very long while. We’ll need to sort out all the details – house, savings and so on – but my new solicitor will be in touch with you after the weekend.
I know this must come as a shock to you. You were probably expecting to return home with a suitcase of washing and some improbable tales about sales projections and what Mr Latimer said in the bar. The only thing is, I’ve seen the photos of the two of you cosying up together – you and Joanne, I think her name is? I also know that she’s married, for the time being anyway.
Do some thinking over the weekend about what you want to do with the house. I don’t mind if you want to buy me out; otherwise we can sell it. And please don’t ring my mobile. If you do I’ll just change the number. One more thing, don’t forget to put the rubbish out Sunday night. Take care and all the best for the future.