Becky with the Good hair.

The funny thing is that I have never listened to the Beyonce song with that iconic lyric in there. But yet it is the soundtrack to my 20’s.

What brought me here was that I watched an excellent youtube video by Breeny Lee on “the intimacy series” the video is entitled “Confessions of a former, habitual cheater” and it spoke to me in unbelievable ways. It is exactly my story. I was the ex wife in this.

This is going to hurt a lot. There is still a lot of pain wrapped up in this time. I was very young, 26 when it started and when it ended, I was used to a whole new level of bare minimum energy. What I didn’t know at the time was that even when we were “good” my ex husband was less than bare minimum. By the time it was over it was overt abuse, psychological warfare, gaslighting adultery, pathological lying. The context of which is that from the very first sexual encounter, my ex husband was sexually abusive and rape was commonplace in my marriage. The cute assumption that he didn’t know he was raping me has been destroyed by the fact that he went seeking actually willing victims. Unfortunately, my real name starts with B, and so does 3 out of 4 of his mistresses.

He also crossed racial lines. I am a black woman, who was married to a white man. He cheated on me with white women. He never really loved me, he thought of me as exotic.

I remember when I was dating him, his best friend had a one night stand with an unknown black woman, both boys (even though they were in their 20’s) said she was “dirrrrty.” And my ex was mad because he wanted to be the first one in his friendship group to have sex with a black woman and he felt that his friend had stollen his thunder. Yes the idiot had the brass balls to say that to me and I still stayed with him. Yes that is exactly how low my self esteem was.

So if you didn’t know. I’m divorced. I filed for divorce in December 2019, having split up with my ex husband in the November. I divorced my ex husband because he was a habitual cheater. He spent my money and yes I refer to it as my money now, because of some nasty things he said during the marriage. On his women. You will never see my face, but know that I am stunningly beautiful. His mistresses however were not. His first Mistress was Becky, her actual name. So during the affair I called her “becky with the good hair” after the Beyonce song, I believe it had just been released. My ex didn’t listen to Beyonce so he never understood the joke. I didn’t ever say it to him

What I need everyone to understand is that I was being abused before the affairs started, emotionally and sexually and so I did not act in the way a rational person would. I was seeking peace, I had faced so much hurt.

I will give you a timeline because it is easier to digest things chronologically.

December 2017.

My ex husband said for his new year’s resolution that he wanted to spend more time with me. Prior to that we both worked really long hours and he worked multiple jobs. I respected his decision, said it would be good for him to rest a bit. Wrong. The devil makes work for idle hands.

April 2018

He meets Becky that is when the texts go from (yes I read the texts, he gave me his old phone without deleting them.) For context Becky is a married woman. They start an affair immediately. He’d go to parties, at her house and others and stay the night at her house. I was an early sleeper, so at 9pm I’d be going to bed as I commuted to London back then. So he’d say he’d either stay on her couch (read couchie) or in Marlborough Gardens his house with his brothers.

He wanted to go to a Dr Who convention with her. He said she was a friend, he asked one time if he could share a hotel room. I didn’t really register it as 2 married people shouldn’t be sharing a hotel room. I told him I trusted him to go to Durham with her because there would be other people there. I even trusted him my ex at the time, he hadn’t done anything shady. They booked 1 room and shared a bed. Apparently there was a 2nd bed but not a second bedroom. That was a violation of boundaries. That weekend was the first weekend in September.

August 2018. Early

Becky Breakup 1. I remember asking him to tell me the truth, he then broke down. Saying he’d cheated, “she’d led him up the garden path” at no point did he apolgise to me. I said we’d go to therapy. Got an appointment that weekend. I withdrew my consent to the Dr Who convention and insisted on going. He resisted. Saying I wasn’t a “Whovian” I should have known when he was up to something shady when he started insulting my character. We went to our first marriage counselling session before the counsellor took a 3 week break.

August 2018.

One of my dreams for my life was to go to the Notting Hill Carnival in my 20’s. Be young and beautiful and dance in the street. I shared that with my ex husband, we’d never gone. So I asked if we could go that year. He said he didn’t want to go because the weather forecast was going to rain.

The Friday he said he was going to go out with Becky that Saturday. I asked if we couldn’t spend time together, so we ended up having THE WEIRDEST BANK HOLIDAY EVER. Ex and Becky went to Salisbury on a date. Got caught in the same rain he wouldn’t be with me in. whilst I scrubbed the house top to bottom, he was returning with Becky…And her husband.

So yes. Ex husband went to Salisbury and then picked up his mistress’s husband in Southampton then came to our house north of Winchester. Sin has a lot of CO2 emissions. We had a perfectly weird dinner there where everyone knew the score and no one said anything. I don’t think this was her husband’s first rodeo, in fact I know it wasn’t. My ex would later complain that he’d been introduced to his predecessors by Becky if you know what I mean, and he felt uncomfortable and emasculated.

8th September 2018.

The Durham weekend. My ex and his then mistress were in a Dr Who convention that he refused to take me to whilst I sat and cried in a marriage counselling office. I’d never been so vulnerable with anyone in my life. I told him all sorts of things, including my desire to die. That man SHANKED me so hard he is legitimately the 2nd worst thing to happen to me in my life. Second only to my ex because he was the enabler. The drug peddler.

My ex and Becky would be in a relationship until October half term.

My birthday. 22nd September.

He put in no effort because he was in love with Becky. We did nothing. So my mum tried spending £200 on a shopping trip to make me smile. We’d never been shopping before, not for leisure. I had no smile. I was an unreachable shell. The next year my cousin would take me out for my birthday because my ex husband wouldn’t. That is how bad it was. I was reliant on others charity to survive mentally. I knew I wasn’t okay. I started ringing Samaritans crying at 2am so that I wouldn’t kill myself that night.  September I got a new phone, which happened to be my ex husband’s old one. That’s how I got hold of the messages. He hadn’t deleted them, then he made a massive fuss over trying to wipe the phone, so I took pictures of the messages and stored them on another phone so that if it came to divorce, I could prove adultery because Jude at this point was a pathological liar. He’d lie about everything. The next day was when he got up and thanked God for his “Special friend” i.e. Becky at the harvest festival when they asked what were people grateful for. He’d never spoken up in church before. When everyone congratulated him I knew that was the lowest point in my life. The next Sunday was when he went off with Becky and the whole church knew at the church harvest festival meal. I knew they knew because one woman told me (and the rest of the church) he’d not attended the harvest festival meal as planned because he’d gone off with his special friend. Another low.

October 2018

My ex’s birthday was the 17th of October. I made a special effort to be kind, welcoming and good.

He was in a bad mood and lashed out at me the entire day. Telling me I’d ruined his birthday.

What I didn’t know was 2 days prior to his birthday Becky had dumped him a second time.

I didn’t find out until the 3rd dumping.

Then let’s talk about what I learnt about the “Robinson” marriage. Becky and her husband Lawrence.

My ex, Jude, Becky and Lawrence were all part of the same ametur dramatics society. That is how Jude and Becky met. Lawrence according to my ex would try and fart on her on stage. He would also talk openly about how his wife just needed “her bean flipped” infront of Jude. To me that is a man trying to assert his masculinity in the face of the lover. Jude found it disrespectful and would talk to me, HIS WIFE ABOUT HOW DISREPECTFUL HIS MISTRESS’S HUSBAND WAS BEING. Yes the epitome of disrespect. Remember I was dead inside by this time.

November 2018.

They broke up for the final time. This one was painful, this time Jude admitted to everything, I was fully fledged suicidal at this point. I would walk to work everyday and everyday I would pass at a certain point the same green tomato Toyota Prius that was so common back then. Every day I’d want to throw myself infront of it so that the pain would end. This November was when I went to A&E when because I thought I was having a heart attack. It was a panic attack. This November was when my parents sat me down and told my ex they’d “speak to me” regarding marriage because in the African tradition, when a man cheats it’s the wife’s fault. I actually don’t know how or why I made it through that time, maybe its so I could share my pain with you.

There was a brief I believe 1-2 day reconciliation at the end of the month then it really was curtains. He started speaking about her in ugly tones as a bitch who’d lead him on. Yes precisely 0 personal responsibility for this and was being bolstered by my enabling marriage counsellor who kept telling us both that I was the problem.

Remember the dates guys because there is a baby due in August 2019.

December 2018

I arrange “international Jude day” for him because he wanted to socialise more, so I arranged a social for him and his friends at our house.

January 2019.

I decided I wanted a separation. He was obsessed with Becky. She was more a presence in my house than I was. Initially it was meant to be for a month. Essentially it was for good.

Why? Because in late January, she became all secretive because she was pregnant and didn’t know who the father was. (I for the purposes of my sanity, firmly believe that the father is either her husband or her other lovers, as long as its not my ex I really don’t care it doesn’t concern me. Her husband gave this kid his last name, so who the hell am I to ask for a paternity test?)

This man lost his mind. Truly he had a full scale mental breakdown, crying and wailing about the lack of contact with a mistress he’d supposedly broken up with. From Friday 25th to 27th of January it was non stop. So I said we needed a separation.

So we separated.

February Becky and Lawrence announced their joyful news on valentines day. Again, he lost his mind.

April 2019-July.

Becky is off the scene. Here comes Beth. A woman I truly believe loved him. What I didn’t appreciate was her flaunting her love in front of me when I’d go visit. I honestly don’t know what broke them up. I don’t care.

May 2019-November 2019.

Maybe because he wasn’t faithful to her either? Because on the scene came Bette and LJ. They were a friendship duo. It was the weirdest thing in my life because these women didn’t just know each other, they were best friends in real life. Bette was a lesbian. She told us so. LJ had a boyfriend who quickly became a fiancé. Yet my ex spent all his time and money trying to get with them. When he turned 30 he had Bette organise the party. Not his wife. But we used his wife’s money. The way he flaunted that relationship in my face was cruel. They robbed me blind of course. For what it was it was an extremely expensive do. Then when I said I was leaving him 2 weeks later they dumped him, because after all. I was the cash cow, not Jude.

Notting Hill Carnival 2019.

This event warrants describing in detail.

You need to know some points. I live in the countryside, reasonably close to a train station. It is 14 minutes walk or 10 minutes run. I live at the bottom of the hill, the train station is at the top.

So I had finally gotten my ex to go to Notting Hill carnival with me. As reparations for how badly he’d treated me the previous year. He was about to treat me a hell of a lot worse. He actually only wanted to go because Bette would be in London and he wanted to meet up with her afterwards.

So he was watching cartoons whilst getting ready. We needed to leave for the train on the hour. When I was ready I said “Are you ready? We’re going to be late?” He said he needed to get his sunglasses from across the road in the car. I told him we didn’t have time and that we would have to run. I was being literal. He stormed off and got his precious sun glasses from the car. So I started running to the train station up the hill to make our train. He had to chase after me. “Are you really going to make me run up the hill?” he said. I said “yes, I told you we’d need to run because we haven’t bought your ticket yet!” he started bitching really nastily and so half way up the hill I said “forget it. Lets go home wait the hour and get the next train.” So we did I sat, spent even more time pretting myself up. Putting myself in a great mood before coming downstairs, not dealing with his pettiness. He was in a bad mood with me for making him run up the hill. I refused to deal with his rudeness the entire way to London, we didn’t speak because we were on a packed train because we’d gotten the late train. Same with the London underground. I just kept myself happy. He was furious. Then when we got out of Notting Hill station he started getting really abusive, so I crossed the street and wouldn’t walk beside him. At the end of the road he pulled me aside and told me he was sick of me treating him like shit and then he scrunched his fanta bottle and tried to hit me. I moved out of the way. All the while knowing he was both ridiculous and finally dangerous. So at that moment I told myself I was getting a divorce. I told my mum the next day, she spent the next 3 months trying to dissuade me. I didn’t tell her he tried to hit me, I just told her that I was getting a divorce.

Our 5 year anniversary I believe we spent in Eastleigh, it would be our last anniversary. I was a suicidal wreck and had been for some time and not even a whole person. I’d dreamt of renewing vows at 5 years because our wedding was a mess. Instead I remember there was Mcdonalds I think we went to pizza express then Mcdonalds for ice cream. I didn’t care. I was divorcing him.

I made special effort to be nice for his 30th birthday. Because I knew I’d be divorcing him soon. Bette organised it. I bought the cake. A Tardis cake (it was delicious literally the only good thing about the party) his family attended but no one else really. A few mates and… Beth. At the end when LJ wanted us to go to a heavy metal club. So I danced to heavy metal in a waifer thin dress. In front of 3 of his 4 mistresses. Truly awful.

2 weeks later I asked for a divorce and he agreed. I was done. He was done pretending to be a good person.

Those are the facts.

The ugly truth was I didn’t want my ex husband after the first Becky incident. I just didn’t know how to tell myself I didn’t want him. I’m a lot more intuitive now. I know myself better. Our entire marriage I was in love with who he said he was not who he actually was. It took repeated acts of evil to show me who he was. I didn’t like the idea of divorce but I also didn’t love this man nor want to have kids with him. “Don’t let kids be something I have to give you he said.” He wasn’t ready and the truth is. He wasn’t deserving either. I married him because I thought it would bring peace in my life. When he didn’t deliver even that I said screw it and didn’t want him anymore. He sensed that and sought even more drama, to get me to pay attention to him.

They say men should cry. My first real experience of a man crying was when my ex wept in my lap over the first Becky breakup. He’d wept once over his mother, but she’d died the year before we got together and I thought it normal natural. Not a sign of weakness but that was tears. This was weeping. However the self pitying wailing I witnessed with no remorse on what it was doing to me and no intention of reform was for me an ugly experience. it proved to me my ex was weak and not the man I wanted. So firm was my belief in the sanctity of marriage that I stayed another year. But no longer. I’d love to say I’ll be magically better because I have lived through such horror. I won’t be I will be the same person. But I have higher standards. I am more in tune with myself and I identify less with the “martyred wife stereotype.” That’s why self work is so important. I identified with the martyred wife because I’d been the martyred daughter. I now identify with the “hot ex wife” and “hot future wife with high standards” because that is who I am. If you identify as a martyred wife you will put up with crap simply because it feeds into your narrative. Its only when you realise its not you do you actually give up.

My ex was right. We weren’t compatible.

The thing is, we never were, and therefore the relationship was never meant to have happened. It was an almost decade long lesson in futility.

I hope your lesson time is shorter than mine.

Grace and Courage.

Annetta Mother Smith.