Tag Archives: LIes

Selling the Farm for a Fantasy

As some of you may know, my wife’s affair began at a shrine some 40 miles north of here. It is the only one of its kind in North America, and the adulterer was a high-level member of that shrine and a long-time student of its priest. As an odd coincidence, on the second visit I made to that shrine about four years ago, the adulterer was the first person I encountered there. One of my wife’s attractions to the adulterer was the fact that they “shared” the same spiritual tradition, supposedly, at least.

Early on in their affair, the priest’s wife got wind of the situation and criticized them quite harshly, and in a very public fashion—via Facebook. Names were not mentioned, but the recipients of the criticism were clearly implied. I believe that it was around this time that relations got strained with the priest.

A couple of important details to note at this point: first, the adulterer lives about 2 miles from the shrine, which is located near a tiny little town out in the middle of nowhere; second, as far as I know, the adulterer helped to build that shrine. So, it is a significant action to want to remove oneself from the shrine and its community.

But that is exactly what appears to have happened. The adulterer seems to have stopped attending ceremonies. As far as I can tell, he has not attended any ceremonies there for at least a year. I believe he and my wife were essentially told that they were not welcome. The priest and his wife do not want a scandal, after all. The inner circle of senior shrine members recently went to visit Japan; normally, the adulterer would have gone with them, as this was a major event and a serious honor. He did not go.

Fast forward to today. The adulterer posted some random nonsense on his Facebook page—and I do mean nonsense: one of those internet memes that consists of a picture with text plastered on it—and one of his “friends” commented about having met his daughter and son-in-law and so forth. Apparently the two met at the shrine, and this was mentioned by this “friend.”

The adulterer replied by saying that the “shrine” (and he used quotes, oddly enough) was out of the picture now, and went on to say that it was a long story, but his departure from the shrine was for the better.

You get that, folks? He gave up his spiritual life and 17-year relationship with the priest for what? An affair, that’s what.

This is what affairs do. They pickle brains and poison minds. They let loose a torrent of social disapproval that eventually amounts to a tidal wave, against which they attempt to swim. It must all become tiring.

At this point, it appears that all the adulterer and my wife have are the superficial pretences that they shovel out into the world via Facebook or other social media. You know, stuff like: “hey, look at this zucchini we grew,” or “we’re making pickles,” or other dross. So long as others buy into it, they manage to keep the raft afloat another day.

But that raft is full of holes by now. My wife is an incredibly stressed-out creature these days. She is volatile and has a short fuse that is ready to blow at any moment. She is working overtime to try to keep out dissent in any form—including me, of course—yet reality now delivers nothing other than dissent. She has got to be under severe pressure: while he could just walk away from all this (and throw her out into the cold), she cannot do so that easily. She left her home for this person. She poisoned friendships and family relations for this adulterer. She cut ties with colleagues and quit jobs for the sake of this infidel. She basically put her entire life on the line for the fantasy this con-artist was peddling, and she got swindled.

He may think he’s in control, but he does not know my wife. He does not know how short her fuse gets when she is under stress. He does not know how quickly she’ll blow her fuse. He does not know how explosive these situations can be. He may have seen glimpses of these tendencies—chances are good that he has—but he has never seen them in all their glory. I have. I know how to deal with them. I have the cool that can dispel the hot torment of that mental anguish. He simply has ego that will feed those fires.

I’m telling you friends, as we enter this final phase of their grossly immoral relationship, things will get ugly up there at Camp You-Know-What. Really, really ugly. It will not be a pretty ending. It seems affair endings rarely are anything other than ugly, and this one will be no exception.

There are some events scheduled for this week that will prove to be very stressful for my wife. Depending on their outcome, life up at Camp YKW (a.k.a. Camp C-S; long-time readers will know this acronym) will likely begin to look very, very different—and not in a good way. This could happen very, very soon. The karma of this situation is ripening. I’ve seen it begin to ripen over the past two weeks and those seeds of malevolence that were planted nearly two years ago have begun to bear their fruit, and that fruit is quite poisonous.

But, that’s what happens when you sell the farm for a fantasy. You don’t actually sell the farm—you can’t; instead you have to continue living on it. But, the harvest is spoiled by tainted fruit and putrid vegetables. Innocent little shoots have turned into noxious weeds. All the health is choked out of the soil, and soon nothing will grow anymore. That’s when the affair dies. It happens either suddenly or gradually, but it dies nonetheless. The fantasy goggles come off and the reality of adulterous life becomes evident. The adulterers recognize the cartoons they have become, and worse yet, they see the cartoonish buffoon they considered to be each other’s “partner” and rapidly begin to notice the grotesque defects that buffoon bears. It is a time of rude awakenings.

Wiser people saw this coming for months and months. But wiser voices were shunned. They were too “conventional,” and did not truly “understand.” The fantasy was singular, unique, and “special.” It suspended all of the worlds moral and ethical codes or rendered them unnecessary.

But none of that matters now. The farm has been sold. Or, more accurately, it is in foreclosure and its residents are getting turfed out. Morality and Ethics are the repo-men of reality, and they have come to reclaim their ground. The only question that remains is how long the eviction process will last.

Adulterer, Interrupted

Yesterday was a big day. I had a full day of work, and then my wife had a concert in the late afternoon. I had not seen her for a month, so I planned on going. There was only one complication: it was almost a certainty that the adulterer would be there, too. Still, I went.

I arrived about a half an hour late, as it was about a half-hour drive from work, and the concert started right after my work day wrapped up. I sent my wife several messages both on the day of the concert as well as the day preceding, letting her know that I’d be there.

She played very well, and the group she accompanied was first-rate. Not really music to my taste, but very well done. The hall was kind of dark, and I thought I made out the adulterer about halfway toward the stage. I was seated in the back, as I arrived late and did not want to be obtrusive. (Years of concert-going has taught me this protocol.)

The concert wrapped up, and I got up to leave. I hung around the back of the hall for a bit to see if my wife would be coming out from backstage, but that did not seem to be happening. The adulterer got up, and I’m pretty certain he saw me. I pretty much ignored his presence.

Since nothing was happening, I decided to go downstairs to the reception, since I figured the performers would all end up there. Some did, but my wife never showed. So, I went back upstairs to see where she was at, and that was when I saw her with the adulterer, still in the hall, getting ready to leave. They did not see me. I figured I had a choice: I could either enter the hall and walk right up to them, or I could wait for her in the lobby. I chose the latter.

The lobby was quite crowded, so I ended up going halfway down the stairs, and then turned around to come back up.  It was just as I was coming back up that my wife emerged from the hall with the adulterer. She was closer to me, and he was on her left. She saw me, and as she did, the most bizarre expression passed over her face. The adulterer saw me and quickly averted his eyes. I walked up the stairs toward them, and my wife hung back to see me. She looked sick, physically sick, as if she were about to vomit. It was a very unpleasant expression on her face, an expression of someone who was forced to go instant cold turkey off a highly addictive drug, and to be showered with the reality of what that feels like. She was a couple of feet behind the adulterer now as I approached.

The adulterer turned his back and walked away, pretending not to be seen. He went and hid out by the coat racks. Pay attention, dear reader, as this is a very significant detail.

My wife said, “what are you doing here?” I responded that I had come to hear her play. She said, “this is not good.” I asked her what the problem is, and her response was that she had not invited me. I gave her no reply, and as we stood there, a member of the group she had accompanied came up to congratulate her and give her a hug. This person also introduced herself to me, and I cordially introduced myself by my first name, and did not say anything about being the husband. The colleague then walked away.

My wife reiterated that I should not have come, and I reiterated that I wanted to hear her play, as it had been a long time since I’d had the chance. I told her she sounded great.

The adulterer was still nowhere to be seen, ostensibly hiding out at the coat racks, looking for his coat. Now, he was already wearing a coat, so that action would have been absurd on its face.

My wife said to me, “I’ll talk to you later about this.” But, this was not said in a threatening tone. In fact, the whole conversation was said in a rather muted, hushed tone, even though the lobby was fairly cramped and quite loud. I asked her if she was okay, and she said she was. I asked her if she needed anything, and she said she did not. I asked her if she needed a ride anywhere, and she declined. I then told her I’d be going, and put my hand on her back so I could give her a kiss. She pulled away. I looked at her with a “what-am-I,-poison?” look on my face, and moved in to give her a kiss on the cheek. She pulled away two or three times, but eventually let me land one. Hey, I’m the husband, you know? But, at the same time, I was not going over the top, and was not about to make a scene.

Where was the adulterer during all this? I don’t know; probably he was still hiding out by the coat racks. I’m pretty certain he saw the whole exchange. And, I’m pretty certain that he was pretty miffed by it all, too.

That, however, is not my problem. He is the one who made the choice to have an affair with a married woman. He is the one who apparently thinks nothing of tearing another person’s family apart. He’s the one without any reliably functioning moral standards. He’s the one who claims to be a “spiritual” person, yet does all this.

So, I walked away, buttoning my coat to ready myself for the blustery, rainy December night. I turned back and looked at my wife, and she just stood there with a look of confusion on her face. In fact, as I remember it, there was a subdued sense of diffused panic about her expression as well.

This is how the walls come crashing down in the house of adultery. Sooner or later reality intrudes. In this case, and at this time, it happened to be the husband who showed up. In other cases, and at other times, other things happen, but sooner or later, reality always does intrude, and it delivers a nasty wakeup all each and every time.

Now, don’t get me wrong, dear reader. I did not go there to interrupt the affair or to humiliate anyone. I went there to see my wife and to support her. I went there to send her the clear message that I still care about her and love her, and that I still believe in her and us and our relationship. If this negatively impacts the adulterous relationship, well, that’s just how it’s going to work out. It’s a relationship that shouldn’t even be there in the first place.

How did I feel afterwards? Elated. Truly elated. I was thrilled. I got to see my wife, and it felt good. Something about that whole encounter seemed, in all its bizarre oddness and complete wrongness of circumstances, really right. It felt like the real beginning of the end of that affair.

Remember that significant detail I asked you to remember? (It’s okay, you can go back and take a peek if need be.) The adulterer turned his back and walked away. This means one thing and one thing only: the affair is dead. Dead, dead, dead. A man who truly believes in his partner does not walk away from her under any circumstances. Instead, he’ll take a stand for what he believes to be right, which in his case should be her, right?

Wrong. His actions spoke volumes. The aversion of the eyes, and then the walkaway, followed by the cowering among jackets that were not his. This is the action of a child, not a grown man, and especially not a grown man who is nearing fifty. One would think a man of his age — a man with a grown, married daughter, no less — would know better. He does not.

I walked out into that blustery December night and drove home. My trip home took about twenty minutes. Sometime later, they stepped out into that same blustery December night and drove “home”: he to his house, and she to the place he calls home, a “home” that was never and will never be hers. That drive would have taken them about an hour. I have no idea what transpired during that journey, but I imagine it was not very pleasant.

I’ve heard nothing since, and I guess part of me is waiting for the other shoe to drop. A lot of things could happen, but one out come is certain: the affair is dead. It might not be over yet, but it’s dead. Dead, dead, dead.

Home again

I was up at 4:50 this morning, and left for the airport at 5:30. I had a very uneventful flight — always the best kind — in fact, due to strong tailwinds, we landed 45 minutes ahead of schedule. I picked up my car and arrived home without a hitch around 11:30.

There were, of course, no signs of my wife having been here at all in my absence. The dog was not at home, either. The house was empty and cold. I checked my phone messages and there was nothing significant to report. There was certainly no news from my wife. She ostensibly is happily ensconced at Camp You-Know-What right now, doing whatever it is that adulterers do.

I really don’t get that at all. How do grown adults act like such children? How do they allow themselves to live in outright fairy tale without realizing that it is, in fact, just a fairy tale? How do they stand the constant lies that they have to tell, day in, day out, just to sustain their illicit relationship? How can they bear the constant secrecy, the hiding out, and the worries about getting found out and the embarrassment and humiliation that will entail? How can they endure the pressure of the real world showing its disapproval of their inappropriate relationship in big ways and small? How can they ignore the obvious character flaws? I mean, my wife has to overlook the fact that her “soul mate” is nothing other than an unprincipled liar who feels no compunction violating the sanctity of someone else’s marriage. She also has to ignore the fact that he has lied to his daughter about the nature of his relationship to my wife — to my wife. (I don’t believe that his daughter actually knows that my wife is still married.) How sick in the mind do you have to be to live in such a state of utter denial? How much do you feel you need to avoid the true problems and issues of your life?

Oh, well.

I will get to see my wife this week, once at least. We had arranged for her to come over tomorrow so that we could work on our taxes; she emailed my yesterday to ask if we could meet on Thursday instead so that she can get a haircut tomorrow.

A haircut. Tomorrow. (sigh)

I guess some things are more important than grown-up duties like preparing your taxes. I guess some activities are more valuable than spending time with your husband.

You know what the problem is? I’m just getting tired of all this nonsense. I know what the end of the story is. I know the affair is going to end. I know we’re going to reconcile. I know she’ll come home. I know that in a few months from now she’ll look back on all of this and wonder what the hell she was thinking. I know there is a breakthrough coming, but I also know that that breakthrough will almost certainly be preceded by a breakdown. I just want all this nonsense to end.

I think my problem is that I’m just monitoring things too closely. You know, just watching the progress, the backslides , or the standstills from day to day. I do remember very clearly spending the morning of New Year’s Eve — our anniversary — at the center where I do meditation. I was in the midst of a bit of walking meditation when I had an insight. I had already endured 3 months of crisis by that point, and I realized that I could take the long view. I could endure another 3 months if need be. So here we are, 3 months later, and things are not any better; in fact, they appear to be worse.

I say “appear,” because from the looks of things, the situation is worse. My wife was living at home in December, in January she separated, and in March she actually did move out. She went from pleasant and gift-giving in December to cold and hostile in January.

Inwardly, I suspect the story is very different. She is not hostile to me anymore. She avoids me like the plague, to be sure, but she is not cold to me when we do see each other. She can actually be quite pleasant, she can open up, express tender emotions, and allow herself to be vulnerable around me. She does give me occasional gifts. She does still care, despite all that she says. I suspect that she is living with a tremendous amount of repressed guilt, stress, and worry. Something has got to give. She has made all sorts of threats and even followed through on some of them, and I have still not backed down — I’m standing up for our marriage. That won’t change.

The affair will end. Our marriage won’t. I won’t let that happen, no matter what.

Expressions of gratitude, redux

In a previous post, I mentioned my efforts to express gratitude to my wife via a thank you letter. This was part of a reconciliation strategy that generally does not advise writing letters, with the exception of this and also an apology letter, since both forms of letters can be powerfully emotional. Expressions of gratitude can indeed be powerful, cathartic, and even transformational when they are given in a genuine way and well thought out.

In the past few days, my wife has started to express her gratitude for me. This actually is not something new: she did this fairly early on in the marital crisis, when she got it in her head that she should express gratitude so as to be able to separate from me. I’m not sure where she got this idea, exactly, if she read it somewhere, or found it on the internet or something. But it was a passing fad, and I distinctly remember her turning sour toward me in December, and telling me she was “done” with expressions of gratitude.

What did I say in my last post? Wait five minutes (or five weeks) and things will change. Indeed they have, from the standpoint of reversal of attitude. Along with the renewed expressions of gratitude comes somewhat of a softening of attitude that is quite welcome. It’s rather forced, I can tell, but I’ll take forced, since over time that could actually lead to a genuine change in both her behavior and feelings.

I’m all but certain that these expressions of gratitude are the result of her visit with the “energy worker” this past week, since it all started the day after that visit. And I’m also just about 100% certain that there is an ulterior motive: that she is following (very poor) advice to try to “heal my heart” or something like that, so that she can then deepen her relationship with her adulterer, leave me, and move on to him. Anyone who would give that sort of advice has problems with both morality and ethics, and is also a relationship-advice amateur.

My initial reaction to these expressions of gratitude was neutral to positive, and then on further reflection I experienced a bit of irritation. Actually, her words don’t really mean that much, since she has so little credibility at this point. It is hard to believe the things she says anymore, she pretty much lies all the time, including lies of omission told to me today. (I’ll get to that later.) I’d much rather see her express her gratitude through actions than to hear them expressed with words. But for now, I’ll just take the words and be grateful for them.

So what of her lies to me today? Well, I was just about to come home from work when I received a text from her, saying that she was taking the dog for the weekend, since she’d been missing spending time with her. She also apologized for not having given me notice. I do know that, if she ups sticks and takes the dog, that she’s going to be with the adulterer. Actually, that’s pretty much her dating plan, as far as I can see, and it makes sense: she gave up all her weekend obligations, ostensibly to work on her dissertation, but in reality she did it so that she could be with him. Not like she’s really busy the rest of the week — she’s not — but he is, and I guess he just doesn’t want to see her during the week. So, off she goes with the adulterer, and unfortunately the dog is faced with another harrowing weekend at Camp Chickenshit, aptly named after the chicken feces the dog was smeared with during her last visit there.

Now I ask you, what kind of expression of gratitude is that? Actions speak much louder than words.

One thing I do find a bit amusing is the opening this leaves me to remind her of her perfidy, and to complicate matters for her as well as the friends she has been “living with” these past few weeks. As far as I know, she is just spending the weekend at their house a couple of blocks from here, so I could just call and suggest that I drop by this weekend to say hi, see the dog, and maybe work on her dissertation a bit. Plus, one of the “friends” she is supposedly staying with is a colleague I am working with tomorrow, and I could simply ask her how things are with our dog at her house. Not sure if I’ll do that, but if there’s an opening to do so, I just might.

Otherwise, I’ll just sit tight and enjoy my alone time this weekend.

Friends that get involved

Seriously, people, you don’t want friends to get involved. You don’t want family to get involved. You don’t want coworkers to get involved. You don’t want anyone to get involved in your marital situation, with the exception of a trained professional. Nobody else really can help.

As I’ve mentioned before, a colleague and mutual friend of my wife and myself inserted herself into our marital situation by giving my wife a place to stay for the next month. She has even helped my wife go out and find boxes to help with her packing. Of course, I personally find this type of behavior inappropriate: I don’t need anyone else to help make my marital crisis more of a crisis than it already is. Not that I blame this person, though. My wife confided in her, and she felt obliged to help. I can understand that. It’s an expression of our basic humanity to want to help others.

The problem is that we do need to understand when the skillful means of action is to provide assistance, and when the proper means is to take a respectful distance. If anyone ever wants to involve you in their marital crisis, the only truly helpful and ethical thing you can do is to tell them you sympathize, but that you feel it would be inappropriate to get involved. You should then refer them to a professional, if you know one.

This blog post was precipitated by the aforementioned friend. I was just at her house. I had called last night to see if I could drop off a package for my wife, since she was supposedly spending the night there. I never got a call back, but received a text this morning apologizing for not getting back to me. I was already on my way to work, and knew I’d see her soon, so we just were going to chat when there was a spare moment. That did not happen until the end of the work day; she seemed rather guilty and wanted to apologize to me for my situation and so on; I briefly let her know that I had a package to drop off, and arranged to drop by later to leave it and said we could talk then.

When I arrived at their house, I asked if my wife was there. They looked around — the husband came to the door, too — and said she was not there, but that she was with her “friends.” I told them that I’d been told that she was going to spend the weekend there, and that’s why I was stopping by to drop off the package. The wife said that she had been there briefly, and then went out with her friends. Who knows if this was true. I suspect that they were given a story to provide her some cover. They know about her lover, and they know him by name. This is brilliant. They now are in the position of having to lie to me about him, too.

They began to apologize to me about the difficulty of my situation, and I just told them that I was sorry if I might seem curt, but I just simply don’t talk about my marriage with anyone, as it’s a private situation, and private should stay private. They said they understood. They assured me that they didn’t want to get involved — impossible if you’re giving my wife a place to stay! — and I was clear that I did not fault them for anything that they were doing, and that I commended them for feeling compelled to help a fellow human. I did tell them that there was basically no reason for my wife to need to leave home, they understood, and I told them that she was always welcome in our house. They said they understood that, too. They told me that my wife said she needs “space.” Well, space is the worst thing that you can give anyone in a marriage crisis: they’ll just use that space to disconnect from you and to connect with someone else. I simply told them that the situation would resolve all by itself if nobody did anything. I further apologized to them that they had been involved, assured them that I would never have wanted them to have gotten involved, or to feel that they have to take sides. I also told them that I am totally committed to my marriage, I take my vows and commitments seriously, and would not abandon my wife under any circumstances. This was not coming from a position of dependency, but rather one of responsibility.

Anyway, I left it in a good place, or at least as good a place as is feasible in these circumstances. I do think that they feel some guilt and responsibility now, and it’s possible that they may not feel comfortable with my wife’s presence in their midst going forward. I did half-jokingly tell them that, if they wanted to kick her out, there would be a warm and loving house for her to return to.

So, that was it. The ball is in their court, at least insofar as how they’re going to feel about having an active adulteress in their midst. Not only that, they have full knowledge that they are interfering with a sincere attempt to reconcile, and aiding and abetting adultery in the process. That’s likely to wear on their consciences. I have no idea how this will play out, but I suspect I’ll eventually hear things, as I inevitably seem to do. Stay posted…