As a BH, I actually found the article to be fantastically freeing, and I don't feel like anything she said absolves my WH of his accountability for what he did.
Esther writes:
> "We used to get married and have sex for the first time. Now, we get married and stop having sex with others. The conscious choice we make to rein in our sexual freedom is a testament to the seriousness of our commitment."
This resonates with me and sheds light on something of which I was not aware within myself: I'm upset that he cheated not only because he violated something sacred but because he got to go play and I didn't. Before WH and I met, we had a lot of other people. I had more than he did, and I think that's part of the reason I wanted to cheat back.
It was a mark of personal pride that I could walk into the club, pick a guy, make him my king for the evening, and then move onto the next on the following night. Perhaps that was a personality deficiency on my part that I never resolved before we were married. I just put it away, never to be spoken of again unless it came up in conversation and certainly not in his presence lest I be disrespectful to the thing we now shared. It was so important than since then, I have made it instead a mark of personal pride to turn down advances when they are offered whether drunk, stoned, or sober.
...And it hurts that he hadn't the same pride in himself, in me, or in us.
> "For these seekers, infidelity is less likely to be a symptom of a problem, and more likely an expansive experience that involves growth, exploration, and transformation. [...] Sometimes, when we seek the gaze of another, it’s not our partner we are turning away from but the person we have become. We are not looking for another lover so much as another version of ourselves."
Omg. That explains another aspect of why I wanted to cheat back. In feeling like I'd sacrificed ego-building play time to be with WH, I felt like that sacrifice was wasted when he cheated, and when I nearly did cheat, I got a validation from it that I felt was lost in his one-nighter. It was reinvigorating to know that I could still find a one-nighter if I wanted one, and it was like armor plating against the insecurity that came of feeling unwanted. All of a sudden, I wasn't nearly 35, showing signs of aging, and trapped in a marriage with a cheater; I was attractive, and I had the power to walk away if I felt like it. I reclaimed a piece of myself that I had put away for his sake, and instantly, I was a stronger version of myself that I liked more and could face this better.
I think that's why I ultimately didn't cheat. Going through with it would have wounded my sense of ethics, and I would not have felt good about myself regardless of the offered justification that he did it first.
> "Perhaps this explains why so many people subscribe to the symptom theory. Blaming a failed marriage is easier than grappling with our existential conundrums, our longings, our ennui."
This does a great deal to unravel my own insecurities about my WH's cheating. In unpacking what it is the WS got from the cheat, I feel like it has been explained clearly why it's not my fault that he cheated. He was bored, lonely, or hating himself, and I can accept that. I can accept that he cheated because of a flaw in his character and the way he perceives himself. I can work with that. It doesn't hurt me that he got bored. Heck, I'm bored. Let's do something about it that doesn't involve cheating. *sigh* I wish that had been a difficult conversation over dinner instead of a bunch of hurt feelings trying to figure it out because he had to be a cheater.
That article was a salve to me. Thank you for sharing it, BrokenDancer.
[This message edited by Untenable at 10:06 PM, September 22nd (Friday)]