SPOT ON!!!
Find a Conversation
| Mon, 04-12-2010 - 6:51pm |
written by a Times advice columnist:
Dear Bel, I’m having an affair and am going to cause so much hurt, but don’t feel that I can or want to stop. I don’t feel much for my husband; we very rarely have sex. We have girls of 7 and 5 and a boy of 2 who adore their dad; he is a wonderful father and a decent man — worth so much more than me. The thought of him with a loving partner makes me feel happy; the thought of him alone and sad makes me feel mortified.
I adore my lover. He is single, affluent, very successful, and sex is everything I ever dreamt of. He wants me to have his baby and live with him. I didn’t think anyone would find me attractive enough to ask me out, not at my age (36).
I’ve been a housewife for ten years and adore my children but hate my life here with my husband, our house and the neighbourhood. The loneliness of it all nearly drove me mad until I met this man. But I have no money, and no real skills with which to find a job. So my new man would have to provide me with a house and support me and my children. I’m not sure I want more children . . . but with this man — perhaps.
Recently I ended the relationship. I cried in secret for a week and couldn’t function. But he got in touch and I felt saved. When I’m not with my lover all I can think about is him, but it’s so much better than my previous empty life. How can a woman lucky enough to have three healthy children say her life is empty? I don’t know what to do. I am so much in the wrong.
Emily
You are in the grip of a terminal, doting passion — a hurricane that destroys all in its path, and a necrotising sickness that consumes from within. How can I condemn you when I fully understand that sort of sexual passion? But though empathetic when people hanker for illicit intensity, I cannot comprehend why they choose it at any price. I beg you not to confuse this romantic, sexual thrill with love. Love is what your husband demonstrates in putting up with his unhappy, cold and preoccupied wife.
If I feel sorry for you in your turmoil (which I do), I feel even sorrier for him.
No words from another could judge you as harshly as you do yourself. It is you who uses the word “wrong”. Who invokes the idea of comparative “worth”. Who understands how, to the mothers of sick and dying children, your mooching melancholy will seem shocking. All I can do is to lay out a few possibilities, to help you decide where to go next. Sadly, a person in your situation is usually as capable of rational thought as Anna Karenina was when she ran off with Vronsky.
You describe your new man in terms that contrast with your husband. He is the dream lover, loaded with money, status and sex. What chance has the everyday affection of a mundane spouse? Flattered and aroused, you now deny the love you must once have had for this decent human being you married. If I told you that the heat dies down in time, would you believe me? Probably not.
The phrase “wants me to have his baby” is overlaid with masculine narcissism and ownership. But imagining himself as a the Great Impregnator is a world away from becoming a caring stepfather figure, and you don’t say whether this sex god fancies the idea of three small children ricocheting around his love nest, cramping his style. To be honest, when you portray yourself as the helpless female who needs a home provided for her, and so on, I feel frustrated. Here is a young, presumably educated woman in her thirties in the 21st century, talking in terms that Jane Austen would have understood. Never mind. Surely you have to discuss all this with your lover so that you know exactly what he is offering. Insist that he is honest. And prepare for disappointment.
Let us assume, for the purposes of argument, that your lover is willing to take on you and your brood, at which point you will let your husband become a wonderful father part-time. But surely such a good man deserves custody of his children? You may find that he bares his teeth if you try to take them away. And why shouldn’t he? I have no doubt that those three need their father, that their place is in the home of the man who loves them. Why should he relinquish them because you discovered the joys of sex? I see no justice there.
You say you adore both the lover and your children, but you must stop to distinguish between eros and a very different sort of love. And choose. A mother’s love involves potential sacrifice and pain from the moment the cord is cut (did you ever think otherwise?), in which case what is best for them has to come first. If you were to manage to give up the lover, banning all contact, you would certainly feel lost and miserable for a couple of months. But all things pass. They do.
To some people I will sound like some Fifties moralist, but I’m not.
Frankly it wouldn’t bother me if you ruthlessly kept your boyfriend in a box and took him out to play with every so often — while remaining competent, caring and cheerful at home. Then you would be in control, instead of this moping victim of guilt. Having said that, an age when people tried hard (whenever possible) to stay together for the sake of the children doesn’t seem so bad. Better than destroying your family for the sake of some bloke you’ve met on the internet, or the arm-candy in the office whom you’ve known five minutes.
A part of us is insane and likes to strut about on a stage declaiming rolling lines half-learnt from 100 movies and books and songs, half-felt within our human genes. Adults will always hurt each other. But once children are involved I want to turn the house lights up high and say: “OK, performance over.” You say you don’t feel much for your husband, yet your letter is full of anguished affection for him. You admire his good qualities, see what a great dad he is, and want him to be happy. At this point you can only visualise him achieving that happiness with another woman, not with you, because despite the flattery of your lover, your self-esteem is very low. You also have to paint yourself as worthless to justify your actions. Which is braver: to flee and destroy, or stay and build? What would happen if you found the courage to confess, sitting down to talk about how you can change this life that you dislike so much and recreate a future together? It might be worth a try. That is, if you want to.

wow, there's not much more that could be said, what a response.
My favorite line: The phrase “wants me to have his baby” is overlaid with masculine narcissism and ownership. OMG.
Love this article! Thank you so much for sharing!
xoxo,
Misty