My husband has had an affair. Or, rather, is having an affair. I never imagined he would let someone come between us. Yet he continues to love her. He doesn’t want to leave me; he continues to love me and want me as well. How to live with this predicament? I don’t want a divorce but I don’t want to live with him and the ghost of this affair either.
I continue to have dreams where I am in bed with two other people. It’s not him or her in the dream, but me and two strangers who are fucking next to me. It’s like I’m not even there. That’s how his affair was. It continued under my nose practically as if I didn’t exist. He says he never stopped thinking of me, loving me, yet he couldn’t stop himself. The consequences of losing me and all we’d built together were not enough to keep him from going to her again and again.
Even now, I know he can’t or won’t give it up completely. He is struggling.
She is cheerful and bright. Adoring, exuberant, full of life and love. For him. All for him. She asks for nothing. Commands nothing. Stays in the background in the compartment he built for her. He offers her vague promises of a future together. Long emails filled with dreams and fantasies. He can see her, touch her, soak in her love and come home to me. He comes home to a clean, well-kept house. An attractive (if overweight) wife who still cuddles him at night, and, yes, makes love to him as well.
But I am not adoring, I am not cheerful and bright. I have never been, truly. But I love him as deeply and fully as I did 20 years ago, perhaps more. I waited while he dismantled his life with his wife and took care of his son so he could come to me. I was patient then and giving, for the most part, but terrified of living day to day with someone. We had difficult, often violent (on my part) fights. I had no idea how to be in a loving relationship. I had no idea how to give.
Over the years, this improved in fits and starts. I was not really good at it. I still struggle with this. I often retreat into my shell, and as a result kept him at bay. But we have made our life together, we’ve enjoyed our travels and experiences. Each was unique and wonderful in its way. We have often recounted what happened during one trip or another, those special moments and experiences on each trip and lovingly, happily re-lived those experiences together.
I have often felt very lucky as I compared my marriage with others. My husband complimented me, showed more affection for me than I for him. I was always confident in his love for me. His steady manner and even temperament left room for my mood swings and volatility. He cooks, I clean. He is outgoing and optimistic; I am neither. But it seemed a match regardless.
I thought we shared a special love. Like no one else. Does everyone think that of their partner? Probably. It seemed very true for us. Our mutual love and interest in literature and books in general bonded us from the very start. That, coupled with our mutually intense physical attraction was a powerful combination. It seemed to shore us up even in the worst times. I guess not so much. Because he responded to her. He went to her.
The combination of a sad, depressed, fat wife, financial difficulties and a cheerful, lovesick, slender, fit girlish woman has been the undoing of us. Now I’m here, months later, much thinner, but broken. I cannot get past the images of them together. The betrayal, the lies, and the worst: He will not let her go.
She now has expectations based on his emails to her. Perhaps she has blown his words out of proportion and is assuming a permanent place in his life because he won’t tell her to go away from him. I’m sure there are more emails and promises of love than I ever saw that defined a future for them together. They barely know each other and there are multiple hurdles to overcome. Why he would want to start all over again at his age is beyond me. But I know the excitement of an affair is intoxicating. Someone attractive and new to explore is irresistible.
It will keep him young. All the discovery of a new person can make one feel young again. I do believe that’s what he seeks. Her naïve love notes and heart texts are silly, but he enjoys it. My attempts at that were apparently not enough or too subtle. I think her goofy outlook on love embarrasses him, yet at the same time it’s something he has completely embraced. It buoys him up.
Her excitement and high school girl gushing make for a happy, delightful romance away from the travails of everyday life. But if he plans a life with her, what will each day be like?
There will be financial difficulties as well. She romanticizes this: “I will support you!” As if that’s something he does not have with me. Again, I’m invisible. She sat in my living room begging him to confirm his love for her as if I were not there. I don’t exist in her mind. If I did, she would have to feel the guilt of her actions. But I believe she doesn’t.
He acknowledges her faults: she can’t spell, she’s not particularly literate, she’s not exactly pretty, as if to convince himself that those things are reasons to fall out of love. But he hasn’t. It baffles him. He sees no real future with her. Fun, yes, at first. Someone to ski with. Someone active. He could soak in that adoration each day. She would cook for him (he’s often mentioned the meal she made for him the first time they fucked), they would cook together. I’m sure they’ve discussed that.
Every moment would be an adventure. More ways to feel young again. But I don’t think he would be happy with her in the long run. I think he would miss me terribly. Well, he says that. (At the moment I’m hard pressed to list what he might miss. The way I fold his underwear? The way I clean the house?) Yet, there are times that I think he wants to take that chance. I think there’s a part of him that wants to go to her and see how it would be. Just to feel the way he feels when he’s with her. That’s why he can’t give it up.
I don’t know how this will play out. But I cannot leave. It’s not the money. It’s not the house. I simply cannot leave him. I love him.