PI Yvonne

Well, believe it or not, we are still between Christmas and New Year.

The Prof went to the university to set an exam for his students. Do I hear you say - YEAH RIGHT? Mmm - don't worry - me too. Universities (normally) close between Christmas and New Year.

But I was thankful for the "break".

I got onto the Internet - and discovered the wonderful world of - Private Investigation.

With a bit of common sense, it was really not hard to track her down, as well as her husband. Up to now, I only had her first name. However, I even got a photo of her, her email address, the location where she sat... I could go take a few pot shots at her!

Briefly- I considered telling "murderous hubby" about her activities, but decided not to stir in such a big unknown pot. Perhaps he would come after me too!

I continued my new found occupation as PI. I checked out The Professor's (cum Eeyore's) bank statements, cell phone statements and found out that he had a HORRENDOUS cell phone bill. What a surprise! The bank accounts were not very revealing.

At this stage, I was praying that God would show the Prof what a mistake he was making. That she was surely just as broken a person as he was himself, and how do you build happiness on 2 broken marriages? But, I was starting to wonder deep within myself, at what point does one give up? At what point do I start to drink the Prof's anti depressants - certainly felt like I needed a double dose of the stuff by this stage.

I decided, I would hold out until the marriage counseling session - scheduled for early in Jan.

The Professor

Well, let’s name and shame the guy – and call my then husband – The Professor. (He actually really was a professor at the time, working at a local university). So – from now on I will call him The Prof.

We are now in December of 2006. The Prof was acting very strangely. I put it down to the depression he had suffered from for years. He would sleep late, keep even later nights, not come to bed when I went to sleep. Probably the most telling of all is that I could no longer do anything right. He got mad about the smallest of things.

There is a very funny and excellent book which I read much later – The 100% absolutely predictable things men do when they cheat. If I had had a sneak preview of that book, I would have realised that The Prof had apparently read it too (or at least attended classes about it) – because he followed the pattern spelled out by the book – down to a T.

So –true to form, everything I now did was sub standard and wrong.

A case in point. Somewhere around the middle of December, I was frantically trying to fold and iron washing – to get it out of the way. Ironically, this was because I knew The Profs hatred of a messy house. His pet hate was the washing lying around.

He was highly offended that I chose to do washing rather than spend time with him - his argument was that I cared more about the washing than I did about him. Huh???? (Just by the way - how about some help with that washing?)

No amount of logic from my part (and please remember – I am a programmer – I have PLENTY of logic in my arsenal), could persuade The Prof as to my good intentions.

I went to bed , forgetting my cell phone in the kitchen – BIG mistake. The Prof sat on the porch and consoled himself with a glass of whiskey. By midnight he sent an sms from his cell to mine (yeah – believe it – the porch is only about 5 metres from the bedroom), to say that since I had not come to speak to him about the situation, he could only assume I am not interested, this is no longer working – he is leaving. He got in his car and left.

The very first I knew about all this, was when I got up the next morning ...to find the Prof gone, and a message on my cell – in the kitchen.

I phoned him and talked nicely (another good trait of programmers – we think fast, talk fast – and the LOGIC of course). On a serious note, my plea to him was – surely one does not get in your car and drive off over WASHING? And by the way – WHERE are you?

He told me he was in Bronkhorst Spruit . Well, that is probably about 2 hours drive away from our home. (It was also ever such a slight twist of the truth). Witbank, and Bronkhorst Spruit are ever so slightly NEXT DOOR to each other.
Enough for today. We pick up in Bronkhorst Spruit / Witbank tomorrow!