Leave it to me to miss the snark event of the season. (I’ve been moving house.)
Several alert readers sent me the travails of life coach Amanda Trenfield who left her marriage of 14 years for some warm tingly feelings she had for a guy at a conference. (An event she attended with her husband.)
Worse than leaving her husband for a grand passion that seems to have occurred entirely in her head, Amanda wrote about it for the Sydney Morning Herald. Which published it, either because they have no journalistic standards (“We looked into each other’s eyes – his dark and mysterious, mine big and brown”), or because they must hate Amanda Trenfield.
The Twitterverse was not kind.
— Ashley Spencer (@AshleyySpencer) May 2, 2022
Yes. Kismet pudding. Amanda, and speaker, Jason, shared a dessert.
…he offered me a sample of his decadent and oozy chocolate pudding.
Could some chump’s 14 years of devotion compete with a gelatinous foodstuff? No.
Then Olivia Craighead at Gawker piled on. “Add this Australian life coach the the list of people who have thrown their lives away for dick.”
Olivia, are we even clear there was dick? Not that I’m going to be buying Amanda’s book to find out (“When a Soulmate Says No.”) But this seems to be the fevered dream of a bunny boiler.
I couldn’t articulate the feelings, the sensations, the experience. The connectedness I experienced with Jason was at a level impossible to describe. All I knew for certain was that this one encounter, in the most unlikely of places, under the most unusual of circumstances, had dramatically altered my life.
The next few days were a complete blur. I couldn’t make any sense of my feelings. I couldn’t escape unrelenting thoughts of Jason. I certainly couldn’t fathom how I’d resume my normal life: a full-time career in financial services, the care of two young children, household chores, social engagements, being a wife. What I did understand was that the successful, comfortable and somewhat predictable life I had spent 20 years building was now of no consequence. I simply didn’t care.
I’d just met my soulmate. What could possibly be more important than that?
I don’t know. Was there a cheese course?
Amanda seems to imagine that everyone in the room is incredibly fascinated with her. Beginning with Jason. And that there is an entire marketplace who would purchase coaching services from someone so blitheringly unaware.
Over the course of the evening, my attraction to Jason developed. I soon became aware of his every breath and I unconsciously mirrored his pace. I caught myself, embarrassingly, looking at his chest through his slim-fitted white evening shirt. Yes, he had a fit, toned and attractive body, but was it his chest I was drawn to?
When dessert was served, he offered me a sample of his decadent and oozy chocolate pudding. I declined, but he scooped up a generous spoonful and fed me across the table anyway. He displayed a level of familiarity normally reserved for close friends or lovers. If anyone had been watching us, they would have been at least curious as to the nature of our relationship.
No one is curious, Amanda.
By the time the group left the restaurant late in the evening, all my senses were on high alert. It was abundantly clear that the energy between Jason and me was somehow charged. I instinctively understood, though, that this was more than just lust, something I had felt many times before. I also understood that it was more than simply physical attraction, but I just couldn’t put my finger on it.
Who is this abundantly clear to? Your husband? I mean, why mention it to him, the magnetic force of FWs is ABUNDANTLY CLEAR.
Less than a month after meeting Jason, having had no communication with him since our time in Margaret River, I ended my 14-year relationship with my husband.
I cannot believe Jason dumped you, Amanda. After all you shared — pudding, stares, a mutual admiration for his chest. And he does you like this? Pouring Shiraz for other groupies? You were SOULMATES.
I hope the book sales are a balm to your shattered soul.