I
clasped Danny’s hand between both of my own while our car rumbled down the
rural highway to his sister’s house. The Sunday evening sun had just hit the
western horizon, ready to sink for the night. My heart swelled with happiness
and pride; I don’t remember why. I simply recall ecstasy that evening, thoughts
of gratitude swirling in my head. For once, life was just good.
“What
are you thinking about?” I asked. He hadn’t talked for a while.
“Katie.”
I
didn’t mind if he thought about Katie; much as he and I wanted to date, there
were some obstacles. Holding his hand only happened while we were driving, and
I had told him before that if he wanted to lessen our relationship and go after
Katie he still had rights to do that. So I accepted the thought and moved on.
But
he continued.
Essentially
he didn’t know if he loved me anymore; maybe Katie was better for him.
At
that moment, I felt like I should just let it go. I doubt I would still have
him if I didn’t fight back. I cried a bit—he was my best friend and I didn’t
want to lose him. I also felt that it was incredibly unfair that he would leave
his best friend of nine months for a girl who had been flirting with him for
less than three, and sporadically flirting at that.
I
told him that I had pressed my commitment as far as anyone I knew of could. I
told him that I wasn’t certain of her level of commitment, but she didn’t know
anything, really, about him. I promised him that I would love him for the rest
of my life with everything I had, and no one else could promise that right now.
I
suffered a bit of damage that day, but this experience of mine is miniscule
compared to what I’m really talking about. I’m talking about real, marital
infidelity—the betrayal of someone who has already promised their all to a
marriage, for better or for worse, for romance or for boredom, for compatibility
or for argument … for attraction or for repulsion.
A
caveat to go with this subject: I’m not suggesting that you must stick with a
marriage if you or your children are in danger, emotionally, physically,
mentally, or otherwise. Abuse and subsequent dangers may drive you away from the
home. I’m speaking not to people who have been betrayed by abuse.
I’m
speaking to those who have distanced themselves from their life-long companions
because of disagreements, overemphasized priorities, focus on the self, and
unfulfilled needs. Think about why you want to abandon your partner, particularly
if you are married: does he irritate you? Does she avoid having sex with you
for reasons she won’t explain? Does he never listen to you? Does she yell at
you the moment you walk in the door?
Depending
on the nature of your pre-marital courtship, these issues could either be
chronic/permanent elements of who they are or they could be manifestations of
an emptying psychological need. Regardless, human beings are generally
reasonable—and you were once in love with this person if you chose to commit to
him or marry her. When you promised to stay together, you promised to overcome
struggles together.
Because
I don’t know what you’re going through, I can’t give you particular advice. I can
only suggest a single idea: if you find yourself thinking about your needs and
how terrible your partner, maybe think more about how you can meet their needs
like you did before you got married or were able to move in together. I
guarantee that if you can change your focus, it will change your marriage.
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