Too good to be true, or, How I met your father

They say that revenge is a dish best served cold - but how cold does it have to be? 
And should it be chopped, sliced or diced? What dish is best suited to a man who at one point had an ex-wife, a wife, a pregnant girlfriend and a new girlfriend - all at the same time? I was an independent, clever, blonde and slightly wild 31-year old Swedish girl when I in 1998 met the man of my dreams. A big hunk of an Englishman, with the looks of Marlon Brando (a young Marlon that is), lush Paul Newman lips and a wide Gene Kelly smile.
 Now, still independent, clever, not-so-blonde-and-wild but also deceived, dumped and ditched by that same man. Sixteen years together, and two kids. So what do you do when you find out that a big part of that has been a lie? Well - you write about it of course!
 This is the true story about how Mr Right became the father of my boys. And how he turned out to be Mr Not-so-Right. Names have been changed of course, but the email correspondence, texts and conversations