I’ve never done therapy sessions, and kind of find the idea of sitting down and talking things through with a therapist a bit weird. But I seem to have no problem doing something similar — sitting here and typing things down, the kinds of things I might tell at therapist — and I find that not weird at all. Maybe it’s just me that’s weird.
I’m sitting here, it’s Friday night, my wife is somewhere else, I don’t know what she’s doing, and I’m home alone. It’s times like this when I really do miss her. I mean, I miss her every day, but right now I really miss her. She has been my constant companion for over eight years. I just thought of this, even — we started dating a bit over 8 years ago, and it was in April 2004 that I realized that I’d spend the rest of my life with her.
Now that’s weird. I never would have thought back then that 8 years later I’d be facing a crisis with the woman whom at that time I’d decided I would spend the rest of my life with. That thought never crossed my mind. It never occurred to me that she would be unfaithful to me. The guy she dated previous to me had been unfaithful to her, and so maybe I thought she was inoculated against that somehow. Then again, it never occurred to me that marriage would be hard. I remember all sorts of people telling me it would be, but I just had no frame of reference, and kind of thought that maybe they were joking. I remember one guy at a party coming up to congratulate me, saying, “the first 31-1/2 years are the hardest; I should know, I’ve been married 31-1/2 years!”
Looking back on that time, those heady, early days, one thing has not changed for me. I still intend to spend the rest of my life with her. That intention was briefly derailed when I discovered her infidelity, but then it blew over in a day or two. She, on the other hand, is still stuck in the mire of the adulterous situation. It clouds everything she says, does, thinks about, plans, and dreams. I can imaging that it must get tiring, living in such an unreal world — a world beyond problems, beyond daily concerns, beyond the actual trials and tribulations of life. It’s a narcissistic world, where the adulterous partners see exactly what they want to see in each other, and ignore everything else. They avoid all of their insecurities of their own imperfections by making the adulterous partner out to be perfect, and this person does the same for them. The real insecurities that manifest get projected onto others, like the betrayed spouse. You see how it goes?
I know it’s tiring for me. Very, very tiring. This whole mess is so totally unnecessary. And so utterly childish. We are back to the incommunicado game again. That will persist until next week, most likely. I keep hoping for some sort of divine or mundane intervention (or both) that will put this nonsense to a stop.
There is at least one person who could do this, actually: her father. He seems to be hanging back and watching from afar. I’m not sure what to think of this. Perhaps he feels humiliated by his daughter’s behavior. None of the members of my wife’s family have reached out to me, although they have reached out to my parents and to my sister. I’m not sure what to think of that, either.
So here we are. I just did the calculation. It’s day 200. Two hundred days since all of this madness began. Two hundred days is a long time to be living a fantasy life. It’s a very long time to have been suffering the juvenile impetuousness of a wayward spouse. But, that’s my karma, and I just have to take it, for now.
Before I wrap up here, let me just explain the featured photo for this post. There is a tulip festival not too far from here, and we’ve been a couple of times. We didn’t make it last year, but two years ago we did go, and that’s where this picture was taken. My wife loves tulips, and has planted a number of them all over the place. They are all pretty much in full bloom right now. I know she would love them if she saw them, but she just doesn’t come around here these days. I occasionally snap a photo with my cell phone and send it to her.
And now, as I wrap up this post, reminding myself that this blog is my therapist, I hear the words of my marriage coach echoing in my ears: “Her path is crumbling… Over the next couple to three weeks [the adulterer] will tire of her antics and will reject her.” I know he’s right. I know he’s right. I know he’s right.