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 That is until last week.

 As part of an ongoing attempt to be a better person, I recently arrived at the conclusion that it was time for me to start volunteering.  I found a nice animal shelter in Soho that needed people to come walk rescue dogs. I went to an orientation and chose a date to make my voluntary debut. I spent my first hour taking the dogs out to get some air, and then the shelter manager put me on “puppy duty.” There was a new litter of adorable half pit-bill, half hound puppies that had drawn a lot of interest and they needed someone to stay with the pups and bring each one upstairs as potential adopters came in.  I got a call, grabbed a puppy named, “Ike” and came upstairs hoping that he’d find his “furever” home as the shelter people like to call it. A professional looking woman was sitting on the stairs waiting for “Ike.” She was clearly excited about getting a dog, and started asking me all sorts of questions about the puppy’s background. I explained to her that it was my first day working as a volunteer, but if she could wait a few minutes a manager would be able to provide more information about Ike. She said, “Sure! I have to wait for my husband to get here anyway.”  [Author’s note: At this point reader, I think you see where we’re headed. I have to reiterate- this.actually.happened. Last Monday night, specifically.]

Moments later, I heard the door open and looked up to see John stroll in. He walked right over to the woman who was playing with “Ike.” I was stunned. I was also trapped because I had to stay with the dog, it was shelter policy.  I couldn’t stop staring at John and watching how he was with her. John was older looking than I remembered, and was, of course, now wearing a wedding ring. He didn’t seem very interested in Ike; in fact he didn’t pet the dog once.  He was making eye contact with me, but said nothing. Did he not recognize me or was he just playing it cool? I couldn’t tell.

He and his wife both seemed to think Ike looked a little too much like a pit bill so he asked me to pull up pictures of the other puppies in the litter on the computer. I couldn’t believe he was directly addressing me in front of his wife.  Was this his way of conveying my insignificance, of intimidating me into keeping quiet?  I needed to do something, to stand up for myself, to somehow let him know that nothing about this scene was O.K. That said I felt neither the inclination nor the responsibility to break-up their marriage. 

Finally, I looked up at him and calmly asked, “Is your name by any chance John Simpson?” “Yeah,” he said his wife nodding in pleasant agreement. “Oh, I thought so. I’m Liz.” He instantly lost his confident stance and stammered, “Oh. Hey, how are you?” His wife shot me an inquisitive glance. “John and I met at a bar years ago,” I said and she happily focused her attentions back on the puppy. John, however, started to pace. Obviously panicked, he told his wife that he thought they should think some more before they adopted a dog. He suggested they get a drink, and I noticed as he walked out of the shelter that his hand was trembling.

On the walk home from the shelter, my mind was racing. How could I have been so blind? More importantly, how could she? When he texted me on Thanksgiving, was she sitting next to him at the table? Where did she think he was when he was with me? What bothered me more than the lies themselves was that his scheme had worked. John is positively average and lacks the trappings of fame and fortune that seem to enable high- profile philanderers. Yet unlike Tiger Woods or Jesse James, he got away with it and I find that to be nothing short of terrifying. I am not attempting to prescribe his behavior on all of mankind; I know there are people capable of faithfulness. But the situation highlighted the uncertainty of trust and commitment. Can you ever be sure that your partner is truly with you? A liar is easy to spot, but a good one isn’t.

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