Well, she lowered the boom.
My wife called me at 6:30 asked when my appointment with the marriage counselor is (tomorrow), and I said “Nine. Why?” She said, “Well, I need to talk to you. About some stuff. I don’t think it’s gonna be what you want to hear.” I said, “Well, don’t make me wait till tomorrow, then. Come over now and talk.” She said, “Well, there’s stuff I’m supposed to go and do....” I said, “Just come over her and get it done now.” She got here about 15 minutes later.
Below, as best as I can reproduce it, is the conversation with my wife. (Bigger: I imagine you’ll find yourself in there somewhere....) Earlier I $40 on an MP3 recorder. Basically, I bought it for this talk, but the idea was to take it to therapy as well, etc. I’d just leave it in a pocket and talk, then listen to the sessions to try and assimilate more. The thing picks up sound pretty well. Unfortunately, it only got the first six minutes of our conversation, which may have lasted about half an hour. I don't know why -- maybe because it was in my pocket, and I got up and sat down a lot, and maybe I pushed the Stop button somehow. (In any case, I went off the beam a bunch of times....) Anyway:
Wife: I feel like all the stuff I did was kind of unforgivable, and I don’t see how you would ever be able to trust me again.
Me: I want more than anything for this marriage to be salvaged -- I think that it can be. I think that if you were willing to commit to the marriage and to counseling and all the other stuff, I think we could be okay. The fact is, though, I had something of an epiphany, which is that under the circumstances, as horrible as losing you is, it doesn’t compare to sharing you. I won’t share you. While you are married to me, it’s not okay for you to see “H” or anybody else. So if you don’t feel that this is worth the effort, then we’d better work on ending it. I don’t want to do that, but I can’t have it like this.
Wife: I’ve... kind of decided we have to work on ending it.
Me: All right. What has brought you to this conclusion?
Wife: That... as I was talking to more than one counselor, I just found myself continuing to say, “I don’t want to go back to that same life that I’ve had, and that I want a different life.”
Me: See, I don’t see it as going back to the same life. I see it as, in this case, coming back to a life where we are (a) working on our marriage, in and out of marriage counseling, and (b) working on ourselves, in and out of therapy. I know that’s not necessarily, uh, suddenly moving into a mansion or something, but it’s certainly gotta be better than the status quo.
Wife: I’m not seeing it that way.
Me: Okay. You’re gonna do what you want to do. I don’t have any control over it. You said, in our first marriage counseling session, that you may be making the biggest mistake of your life, and I think that you are. I think that you are fucking up hugely. You say that you understand the risks of what you’re giving up, and I don’t believe that for a minute. I don’t think you have a sense of what you’re giving up... not just me -- somebody who, at least, loves you with all his heart and has some *principles* -- that’s one thing. I think that this is really gonna hurt your relationship with our son; I think just... what you’re giving up in my family, you know, you’ve said my mom is more of a mom to you than your mom; you love my sisters; I mean... what you’re giving it all up for... lemme put it this way: I don’t know what your plan is regarding “H,” if you’re gonna stay with him, if you think that’s a long-term thing, but he is going... to... hurt... you. This is what he does. He finds vulnerable, middle-aged women, and he swoops. A year ago he was telling me how wonderful you were. I don’t think that’s any accident. You know he’s done this before. That’s “H.” There’s not a whole hell of a lot I can do. You’re not gonna see it until you see it. And God forbid -- God *forbid* -- he should do to you what is happening to me right now. I don’t want you to be hurt like that. I love you very, very much -- I don’t want you to be hurt. But I can only yell “Don’t walk over the cliff!” so many times. You’re either gonna hear me, or you’re gonna walk over the cliff. And lemme ask you something: If I hadn’t gotten that phone call, how long would this have played out? What would you have done?
Wife: I don’t know. I was thinking that I would tell you at a counselor’s office or something that I wanted to move out.
Me: How long have you actually been sleeping with “H”?
Wife: Couple of months.
Me: What kind of life are you expecting to get out of this transition? What is it you’re looking for?
Wife: I think the possibility of leaving this area or... maybe I *am* gonna get hurt, and I’m gonna have to be self-sufficient.
Me: Are you thinking this is a long-term prospect with “H”?
Wife: It might be. But I can’t be certain.
Me: No, of course you can’t be certain. I think you need to take a good long look at “H.” He’s been cultivating you for a year. He’s been carefully doing the flattery thing, and the attention thing. He knows exactly what he’s doing.
Basically, all she did was sit there, quietly, looking like she was just about to cry.
At this point, the recorder cut out, which is too bad, because I don’t remember much of the conversation. I raised my voice a lot -- not yelling, but speaking angrily. She really didn’t, though she complained that I was putting words in her mouth, which I was. (Not that they were the *wrong* words, I’m pretty sure.)
I told her I felt she was making this decision lightly, and she said she didn’t want to keep me hanging.
I asked her things like, “How is this acceptable to you? How is it okay to be feeling these awful things, but be unable to tell your husband, and instead just go ahead and enter an affair?”
She said at some point, “Don’t you think I’ve thought about how what I’m doing is hurtful? And I’ve thought about the fact that maybe I could get hurt, that I’m making mistakes.” I said, “Good.”
I said that she’s visiting all the shitty stuff she’s carried with her all her life onto me, and that now she’s leaving me because I couldn’t take her away from all this. Neither will “H.” Or the next guy. What’s she going to do then?
I also told her she’s being a fool.
At one point, as I ended a rant, I said, “And it’d be nice if you’d fucking fight back.” She said, “How? I don’t know what I want to say.” I said, “That’s the problem: You can’t say the things you need to say. But you can slip so easily into an affair, instead of dealing with the problems. It’s pretty sad that neither of us had the confidence to believe that we could express dissatisfaction or anger while being confident that we’d still love each other and would work through the problems.”
I said that at least I have scruples -- something “H” does not. He intrudes on marriages and fucks other men’s wives. “You said in our first counseling session with that woman... I don’t know what I was saying exactly, but I was talking about what “H” is. You said, ‘I don’t let him badmouth *you*.’ And I thought, ‘He doesn’t know enough about me to badmouth, and I’m not fucking *his* wife. I’m certainly not even fucking his *girlfriend*.” This appeared to have no effect on her, but then again, nothing else did.
I asked her if she’d ever had her heart broken -- really broken. She didn’t answer for a bit, then said, “I guess I don’t know.” Well, gee, if you don’t know, then it hasn’t happened -- you’d know if it had. I said that I hoped sincerely that it never happens to her, because it’s the worst. I said, “You know what? It’s worse than losing my father. It’s the worst thing ever. If I were you, I’d develop a belief in God, then pray like hell that this never happens to you.”
I also asked if she’d ever been betrayed -- really betrayed. She didn’t answer. I said, “You can’t imagine what it’s like.” I didn’t elaborate -- I should have, but I guess I couldn’t find the words.
I went on a lot about the foolishness of her choices, and my voice was definitely raised. At one point she stood up and said, “You’re scaring me.” I said “What?” “You’re scaring me!” I said, “What do you think I’m going to do? I’m not gonna hurt you.” She said, “I know, but you’re scaring me!” I said, “That’s the thing. I’m supposed to be able to comfort you and hug you or kiss you now, but I never get to do that again. Or anything else. How do you think that feels?”
I don’t remember how the discussion got here, but I said something like, “And now, are you gonna tell me you got nothing good out of our marriage?” She said, “Of course I’m not going to say that. You know that wouldn’t be true.”
I told her how awful it was for our son, how he was at Christmas. I asked if he’d talked to her, and she said, “He won’t talk to me about it.” I said, “You ever wonder why? I can’t imagine he thinks you’d hear him, or understand what you’re putting him through. Everything stable in his life is being torn out from under him. He said, ‘I feel like I’ll have these two, vague half-families.’ I guess he’ll have to suck it up, though, won’t he? But you’re gonna have to go a long way to repair your relationship with him. Do you realize that? You’re tearing apart his family, and you’re hurting his father. And he’s adamant about staying in this area -- he sure as hell doesn’t want go live with my mom and her cat.”
My wife said, “Well, I have a proposal: How about I live in this apartment with him?” I said, “Oh, that’s good: *You’re* leaving *me*, but *I* have to leave the apartment?” She put up a hand and said, “It’s just a proposal.” I said, “Yeah, well, it ain’t gonna happen.”
I asked if she had a place lined up. “Temporarily,” she said. I asked if “H” was going to provide some financial support, and she said, “I don’t know. Maybe.”
Toward the end, when clearly she wanted to get out of here and away from me, I said, “Well, we’re gonna have to get together a few more times to work things out. Like finances. I know there’s not a lot to split up.” She said, “There’s a lot of debt.” Course, she caused most of it, but still.
Toward the end I said, “Well, I suppose you aren’t gonna change your mind, so if that’s the case... you know what to do.” Which means: You file for divorce. You pay the fees.
Among the things I wish I’d said were:
* “You’ve given me Chlamydia.” To my knowledge, she hasn’t -- there has to be sex first, right? -- but I kind of like the idea of putting a scare into her, if only a brief one.
* “So who do you think is gonna be holding your remaining hairs while you puke from the chemo? ‘H’?”
* “I don’t want you in this apartment unless our son or I am present.”
* “Do you plan to move in with ‘H’? Or marry him?”
* “‘H,’ this ‘man’ who ruins marriages, including his own, is going to live a long, full, happy, painless life, but I get to suffer like this, even though I try to treat people well, even though it hurts me to hurt other people. Why even live? What’s the fucking point?”
Anyway... I'd say there's no hope left, so I need to find a way to stop hoping.