Storytime: My Boyfriend Cheated on Me

I’m not currently holding a grudge against anyone or anything. Holding onto negative emotions exhausts me, so I try to forget about the people who have angered or hurt me.

But I did—rightfully—hold a huge grudge against my ex after he cheated on me.

So, I guess this is story time. Spoiler: I stayed with him for about a year longer before realizing that this man would never change.

Let’s call my ex Tom. I first met Tom in my early twenties when I was out partying in Hongdae. He was friendly and polite, took my number, and asked me out on a date the very next day. We went on countless dates over several months, but we were both hesitant to make things official.

We both had our reasons. I was still healing from a short but stressful previous relationship. My self-esteem was shattered, and I didn’t want to open up to anyone. Tom, on the other hand, was worried about our age gap—we had an eight-year difference.

It took time for us to become “girlfriend and boyfriend,” but eventually, we got there. And I have to admit, I was very happy with him. As I mentioned, my self-esteem had hit rock bottom, and I was never satisfied with the person I saw in the mirror. I tried to hide this from him, but he caught on and did whatever he could to help me love myself again.

And after healing from all the hurt he caused, I’m still thankful that he helped me realize my worth. I learned a lot about myself during our relationship, and there are memories I’ll cherish forever.

Now back to the story.

The first five years or so with Tom were great. I graduated from university, and he was saving up to open his own restaurant. We were always excited to spend time together and supported one another.

Everything was going well until COVID hit. We both worked in industries that were heavily affected by the pandemic—I was in private education, and he was in the restaurant business. After a month-long closure, I could only have half the number of students in my classroom. Tom had to move to a restaurant that was delivery-only.

It was a tough time for everyone, and something I never want to go through again. Around this time, Tom decided to start his own restaurant with a friend he had met at his new job. They were planning to open a 24-hour delivery-only pasta shop.

I was against this—not because of the business plan, but because I wanted Tom to start a business on his own. Over the years, he’d come up with great ideas for his own restaurant, but he had to compromise since he was partnering with someone else. Still, I showed my support.

Because he opened a 24-hour restaurant, we barely had time for dates or to spend time together. Desperate to see him, I would visit his shop during his break and chat with him for about twenty minutes before heading back home. Whenever he had time, he would drive me to and from work so we could at least talk for fifteen minutes.

We did what we could, but I was extremely lonely. I spent a lot of time at his house, waiting for him to come home. His shift ended around 4 a.m., and I’d often fall asleep before he returned. But at least I’d get a glimpse of him when I woke up.

One day, while I was at his home using his computer, I noticed a message pop up from Yanolja, a motel booking site. I would have ignored it, but something about it made me uneasy. I guess he forgot that I knew his password because I logged onto his messenger as soon as I saw it.

I was disgusted to discover that he had booked a room for that night. I hoped it was just an ad or a promotion, but it wasn’t—it was a booking confirmation. I called him right away, but of course, he didn’t pick up. I called the restaurant’s landline, but still, no answer. I didn’t text him because I didn’t want him to know what I knew.

Panicked, I took a taxi straight to the motel.

The employee at the lobby said he couldn’t tell me whether Tom had checked in—it was against policy, and he could get in trouble. However, he didn’t hide the mandatory visitor log we had to sign during the pandemic. I guess it was his way of helping.

Tom’s name was on the log, written in his terrible handwriting that I could recognize instantly. Next to his name was his temperature and the time he arrived at the motel. The next person on the visitor’s log had a very feminine name and had arrived at the exact same time as him.

The motel had a parking tower, so I couldn’t find his car, but his license plate number was written down on a list at the entrance to the tower. The employee allowed me to wait at the motel and hinted that there was only one exit that led to the parking tower. I think I stayed there for three hours before giving up and fully accepting the situation.

I felt sorry for myself, sitting alone on a dirty sofa in a low-grade motel, staring at the elevator door, with less than 20% battery left on my phone. I was terrified of what I might see when the elevator doors opened, but a small part of me still hoped that I had misjudged the situation. Then, I gave up. I felt pathetic and realized that even if he was at the motel alone, he had lied to me about being at work. A lie is a lie, and this one was unforgivable.

I took a taxi back to his home. He knew I was going to be there, and I figured I’d see him if I waited at his house. Looking back, it was kind of stupid, but I wasn’t thinking clearly. I lay down in his bed, exhausted, and waited for him to come home. I never really fell asleep but kept my eyes closed for about 40 minutes until I heard him open the front door.

He came to the bed and kissed me on the cheek. After noticing I was awake, he asked if something was wrong and why I had called him so many times. He said he was worried when he saw all my missed calls. I didn’t really respond, and he said he would go change and get ready for bed.

The one thing I’ll never forget about this moment is how nice his skin felt. It was so soft and smooth. When he came home from work, his skin was usually damp with sweat, and he always smelled like pasta ingredients. That day, he smelled like soap.

I hadn’t shed a single tear all day, but once I felt his skin touch mine, I started to break down. I managed to hold back the tears and composed myself until he came back to bed. When he returned, I was ready to confront him.

I asked him where he had been, and he said it was a silly question. I guess he was nervous because he didn’t let me reply. Instead, he rambled on about how he had a long day at work, how he was going to do whatever it took to make his business a success, and how he couldn’t wait to go on vacation.

I didn’t say anything and let him keep talking. When he finally finished, I just said the name of the motel. Nothing else. He froze and went absolutely silent. I left his house and went home, but looking back, that was the moment I should have left him for good.

Unfortunately, as I mentioned before, it took another year for me to finally break up with him. And that whole year was filled with crippling insecurities, all due to the huge grudge I held against him for cheating.

This post is already long enough, so I’ll follow up in another post detailing how I spent that entire year doubting and suspecting every single thing he did. Despite how hard he tried to regain my trust, I learned that some people aren’t even worth holding a grudge against.

By the way, he cheats on me again.