My capacity to forgive has not stood me in good stead where he’s concerned. That, mixed with love and it’s been a disaster. Today my friend researched a brilliant set of blogs filled with compelling research about why men don’t leave their wives – and it could have been written about he and I.
I have been seduced by all the opinions I’ve had about how that marriage cannot survive and if I’m really honest, having a short affair post the event suited me fine. I was merely, as I saw it, speeding up the inevitable.
Yet it seems I was wrong.
Most men who have an affair, according to the research, go back to the family unit. It may turn their relationship around or turn it into something impossible to live with which does eventually break down, or something fairly miserable, but which guilt holds together.That the only way of ever moving forward is to completely cut off the affair – preferably in front of the wife.
The blog was full of graphic descriptions of how the man feels when he finally really viscerally gets what he has done to the wife who has trusted him. I finally saw, reading that, what I have been responsible for. Presumably something he has only just really finally gotten too.
I had a long conversation with my cousin the hypnotherapist and admitted that even now I am hoping that once he comes out of this breakdown, that his wife won’t take him back and he will wait a while then call me.
Talking to her I further owned how it could never work between us. That he has shown himself to be weak and dishonest. How long would it be before I could not trust him either? That I would absolutely be second choice. I finally acknowledged that whilst he loves me, or certainly did, I love him a great deal more. That I have cried more in the last year than ever in my life before and that he has meted out that misery to me.
That he has shown me a funny kind of love and that I’ve hung on to it because I still believe in the absolute scarcity, if not impossibility of finding reciprocated love.