One day on a family outing to a zoo, she glances over his shoulder and sees he is texting “Hi Beautiful”. How odd, she thinks, we are here together and that is his name for me. The bottom falls out of her stomach as the surreal nonsensical morphs into the real. Questions flood her bloodstream, racing through her system, searching for how this could be, poisoning her life immediately and irrevocably.
She tells me later that she waited to confront him at home,when the children were in their rooms, reading after a long day at the zoo. It is in those waiting moments that I admire her maturity or patience or I am not sure what it was. When she confronts, he denies, looking deep into her eyes with reassurance. This is our human trusting thread- we all share it on some level before we separate. It is our longing to believe and trust, regardless of the evidence shoved in front of our faces, over and over. Often it is presented only once , backlit, neon, dramatic and forensically verifiable and obvious. We can stare it down, push it back and kill it. We are dying to not lose the ground that we know. It is shaky, the richter can’t count that high, but we have normalised it. We tell ourselves it is solid.
His words finally gave way to the truth. “I’m done” , he says. This is what we said impolitely as kids, when we were full. He pushes his marriage away with the same insouciance as a plate after dinner. She begged for a month, they sought counselling, she confronted his lover, had public tea with her no less, and they even made love again. But he was done.
24 short months later after his life with this woman was made public, they split up. They had moved half way across the country together, bought and renovated a house, started new traditions, took trips together and created a new life. Soon he was done again.
This was a secondary loss for the ex wife- the marriage broke from this relationship and then this relationship broke. Although possibly just the catalyst for them to split, it feels wasteful in a way that is unbearable. It is barren and empty and she has to revisit all that is still sore and open.
click here to read my latest post on Urban moms called DEEP POCKETS
Doesn’t this happen over and over again. And let me guess, this relationship was with a women he met at work. Honestly.
This is what happens when we spoil our boys, they never become men. God help me if my boys treat women the same way.
thank you Wendy for your interesting views. Bare minimum teach them to pick their dirty undies up off the floor!
For me, it was the lying directly into my eyes (and obviously knew the answer to the question already) that hurt more than anything. I think people can get through a lot, but can never get past lying.
The thing I found interesting was that he was able to book trips and take the girl out to places he never asked me to go. He was so used to me planning every inch of his personal life that he didn’t know how to plan anything for me. I can’t help but believe it’s my fault for planning his life so much (because I loved him so much and wanted to show I cared) that he didn’t know what to do when I wanted him to take care of me…
thanks for writing in Patti. I cannot encourage you to believe that your kindness caused anything but life is complicated. Hopefully you will meet someone who will care for you the way that you care for them.-n