I married a serial pants shitter

In my defense, I had no idea, until it was over. Backstory:

So, I've been married for about 10 years and the marriage began to fall apart around September of last year. Earlier that year in February, my husband decided he wanted to be poly because he met a stripper he became infatuated with. I have multiple chronic illnesses and we lacked intimacy. I loved him so I decided to let him have his thing. I was upset of course, but I wanted him to be fulfilled. As you can imagine, things did not go well. She was stringing him along and it was upsetting him to the point that he became an angry, depressed, and just downright awful person to be around.

By September, he became irate over everything. He was so critical of me and mean. He started going out to the strip club (an hour away from home) every single chance he got. Naturally, the depression started to kick in as I began to realize due to his horrible behavior I wasn't in love with him any more, and perhaps he was not with me either. I got bored and started going to the bar at the local mexican restaurant about 15 mins from my house. And I met the bartender. I started coming in every night he worked and we bonded over drinks and had great conversations. I finally worked up the courage to give him my number and he asked me to come over and watch a movie. I know it was wrong, but I was extremely attracted to this man, and I said yes. Fast forward, he found out and we had a big blow up.

About a week later, we agreed to try and work it out then, my chronic illnesses caused an episode and I had to be admitted. It just so happens to be on our anniversary. He never once celebrated our anniversary or valentines day. And he comes in my room with roses. He also told me there was more when i came home. While I'm laying in bed and had just been given morphine and anti nausea medicine by IV so I couldn't defend myself. He comes in pulls a chair up to me and right in my ear he whispered "if we're gonna make this work, things are going to change. When you're not sick and I'm off from work. You're not cleaning the house, you're gonna be on your knees sucking my dick." That was it for me.

The next day I go home and sure enough, he had bought more flowers and $300 worth of jewelry from Walmart with the receipt layed out next to it. So I call him and tell him we need to talk and he comes straight home from work. I told him I was done. He started crying and coughing so much that he shit his pants right in front of me. When I got my car back from him I found a bag with pants and boxers with shit all in them. My mind goes back to the times I did laundry and he wouldn't have any pants and boxers. I would ask, "where are your pants and boxers I just bought you?" He'd shrug. Now my head is spinning and things began to make sense. While packing up his belongings I found a second bag. 6 months later, guess what? Yep, more shitty pants! Last month..shitty pants!!

Keeping them like trophies..like a serial killer!?! I don't know why he kept them!

ETA paragraphs, last lines.

*I took the jewelry back to Walmart and got a refund and kept the money