What if I really was a “bad wife”?
I gained weight after we got married and even more after having children. Which, btw, he never sat me down to discuss my weight or the problem he had with it. I guess given the fact that society in general certainly approves of/accepts skinny/thin and disapproves of/rejects fat, I should have know better. Nonetheless, the “Fat Wife” card was the one he played after D-day.
From my perspective, things seemed to be really good between us right up until D-day, which was totally blind-siding at 17 years of marriage. (I thought) we enjoyed each other’s company, had deep love, care, and respect for each other, and I never doubted his faithfulness and commitment. Our sex lives had dwindled considerably over the years, but I foolishly didn’t think much of it given we were in the throes of the “difficult” years of him working hard at his job and my managing the household and raising 3 small children. All in all, I thought we had a wonderful life together. I was happy. I thought he felt the same.
After having children, I became very distracted with raising them and, thus, focused less on my soon-to-be-ex. He was no longer the center of my world, but rather had to share it with 1, 2, then 3 other people (one with special needs). I had no idea he had a problem with this, but, apparently he did.
Also, and, in hindsight, I think this was a biggie: I did not comply with his need to watch porn during sex. It made me uncomfortable for several reasons. My disinterest in porn was, unbeknownst to me, a fatal blow to our marriage. Again, he never said anything to me about his porn requirement. He just went on to have sex less frequently with me and more frequently with himself and our computer in the wee hours of the night while I was asleep.
So, between my weight gain, my disinterest in porn, and my attention lacking due to diversion to the kids, maybe I really was a “bad wife”. Of course, my soon-to-be-ex had options. There were things he could have done…things we could have done together…to remedy these issues. But, he chose to keep his complaints or disillusions to himself — and to indulge himself in a long-term affair with a co-worker behind my back. It wasn’t until after D-day that I learned of the dire seriousness of my weight, disinterest in porn, and the effect of sharing attention with the kids had on him and our marriage.
Anyhow, This stuff just nags at me sometimes as I wonder sometimes…maybe I really was a bad wife.
Well whatever degree of “bad” you are, you’re exponentially surpassed by your fuckwit husband. You didn’t keep your complaints to yourself, fuck around on him, and then try to pin your bad behavior on HIM, did you? Nope… didn’t think so.
Look, none of us are perfect. And even if you were perfect — the perfect body fat ratio, the perfect interest in porn sex, the perfect children shipped 2,000 miles away at the perfect boarding school — he could probably find something else to bitch about. “You’re too perfect Mae, I can’t compete with perfect. I need to fuck Cheryl because she’s flawed in that human way you aren’t.”
It’s a no-win, Mae.
I’m not saying that weight gain, kinks, and marriage/child balance aren’t real issues in a marriage. They are. They’re very real challenges. But the difference between a loving spouse and a cheating douchebag is that a loving spouse acts like a grown up. They raise the issue compassionately — and they work hard with you (not against you) to fix it. They compromise. They address their own behavior, and check in with you about your levels of satisfaction. They go with you to therapy. They do the diet with you. They don’t begrudge the childcare costs it takes to have a dating life with three children. And if all of these measures fail, they own THEIR problem with continuing the commitment and they check out honestly with a divorce lawyer and a fair settlement.
That’s how grown-ups behave, Mae. You didn’t marry a grown up. You married a man-child. Waaah! It’s hard to raise small children! (Especially one with special needs!) Waah! Not enough kibbles! Waah! My wife’s figure looks like she had three children! Waah! I want fantasy porn sex like the kind on my computer! Waah! Real life isn’t like cyber life!
All cheaters are some manner of crybaby. Waah! I don’t want to work a real job! Waah! I want more toys! Waah! You’re not the boss of me! Waah! I don’t want to pay my bills! Waah! This isn’t FUN!
When a chump treats a crybaby as if he/she was a grown-up the result is cognitive dissonance. You assumed faithfulness and consideration, instead you got a black hole where a husband was supposed to be. You assumed he’d speak up, instead you got suckered punched with his list of complaints. You assumed intimacy, instead you got a guy who jerks off alone to porn.
You’re dealing with a fuckwit, not a man. When you recognize that the failure is HIS, you’ll stop dwelling on your chubby thighs. When he insists that the ONLY way he can get it up with you is by watching OTHER people (anatomically improbable people) have porn sex, he’s made you a prop, not a person. You can’t connect with that and it’s not your fault. You’re broadcasting a signal he won’t tune in to. “I want your full attention, let’s make love!” when his channel is set to co-ed-takes-it-in-the-ass-by-well-hung-black-dude.
Is porn titillating? Sure. He’s entitled to his fantasies. The problem is his fantasies have eclipsed real life, he prefers the cyber fakery over the real deal. Now, his affair partner is real — but it’s naughty and dangerous because it’s an affair, which means extra zing. My guess is after you divorce his ass, and he has 24/7 access to her, he’ll want her to watch porn with him to get it up too. All to say, I don’t think this is the Love For the Ages. He’s a guy who requires a lot of escapism to exist marginally in Grown Up Land.
Please don’t fault yourself for his cheating. If you’re fat and you have a problem with that, address it for your own health and well-being. A lot of people find, infidelity diet aside, that they get a lot healthier once they eject the cheating idiot from their life. Your body-mass index has nothing to do with your odds of getting cheated on. Supermodels and celebrities get cheated on (Christie Brinkley, Halle Berry, Eva Longoria, etc.) Fat cheaters cheat with fat affair partners. Cellulite has nothing to do with it — it’s all about ego kibbles.
If it’s any consolation, my serial cheating ex had three wives (that I know of, the list may have grown by now). The first skinny and petite, the second busty and considerably over-weight, and me — tall and squidgy, but pretty average looking. He cheated on ALL of us. When I confronted him about the second wife, he said he cheated because she got fat. Funny thing, when I asked his sister about that, she said wife #2 had ALWAYS BEEN FAT. Hell, she was fat at their wedding! (And I saw pictures, the woman was like 300 lbs — a very nice person, but yes, fat.) He apparently didn’t mind fat whatsoever. He was with Ms. Too Fat for 11 years and seriously enraged when she dumped his ass and remarried later. (And lost a ton of weight too — funny how that works.)
The beautiful karma of this story is that while he bitched about wife #2 and the terrible burden of being with someone So Fat — he got fat. Really, really fucking FAT. He gained at least 60 pounds while I was married to him (which wasn’t very long). And when I had the misfortune of seeing him a year or so after my divorce, he was even FATTER. A bald, 5’9″ guy, so he doesn’t carry it well. Looked like an over-cooked sociopathic potato.
All to say, your cheater, probably a legend in his own mind and so deserving of All Good Things, will suffer his own imperfections in time. A limp dick, a beer gut, hair loss. And he won’t be with a good woman who’ll love him anyway.
His loss, Mae. HIS LOSS.