Marriage and Infidelity Ch. 02: Choices

The following is an expansion on my previous contribution "Marriage and Infidelity: Lessons from Loving Wives" and is autobiographical.

To summarise, I met my wife at University. She was seven years my senior (me at 21) and we married in a small ceremony in the beautiful grounds. Her childhood and schooling was strongly influenced by Catholicism. When we first met at University, despite the age difference we found we clicked and enjoyed talking and being together. From our talks I discovered that she had only recently lost her virginity to a middle-aged architectural draftsman who lived in an apartment just across from her home. Her mother used to do the guy's washing and ironing. I never really pressed her for an in-depth description as to how she and the guy decided to get it on. Following my graduation I found employment as a teacher in a one-teacher school surprisingly close to the state's capital city. My experience was a baptism by fire and I struggled to cope for the two years I spent there.

My wife supported me in every way and I probably would've crashed and burned without her efforts. This was the second year of our marriage and one of the casualties of that stressful period was our love life. It was for all intents and purposes non-existent. While I made my feelings clear to my wife she told me she wanted to hold off until she was ready to start our family. So basically, we were loving roommates for that first year with little to no sex. In the second year, she began her campaign to become pregnant, reading up on the dos and don'ts in all manner of books and such. I was confused and at this stage pretty pissed off about her controlling attitude since by my reckoning, intercourse resulting in ejaculation during her fertile period seemed the most important stage in the process. However, it seemed to be relegated to secondary level concerns. Finally, she apparently got all her ducks in a row and agreed to having sex in order to achieve pregnancy. We were successful and both happy with what the future held for us nine months hence.

Her waters broke late one night and we packed her bag into our car and I drove her to hospital. She had a very difficult labour 24 hours plus and the baby was becoming distressed. After a traumatic forceps delivery our first son was born and I raced off to phone all of our relatives with the good news.

My wife was a great first time mother and I tried as much as I could to be a fully participating father. I found the experience made me realise the reality and responsibility for bringing a new life into existence. In short I grew up quickly.

Our love life was again put on the backburner while we each struggled with the day-to-day responsibilities of parenthood and employment.

At the end of our second year we decided to quit teaching and move to the state where my wife's parents lived. I would attempt to find a job in the new year.

I managed to snare a 9 - 5 job with the local city council and we began to settle into a family-oriented life-style. We were not rich by anyone's standards but we both felt blessed. Our young fella developed and thrived due to his mother's earnest devotion. I loved and cherished both of them.

One thing that didn't seem to thrive was our sexual relations. I felt guilty even thinking about wanting to make love to my wife as she spent each day working to raise our son. After a few times being softly rejected, I tried to compartmentalise my sexual needs so as not to "rock the boat". I became reacquainted with my right hand as that became my only source of release. But it rated a poor second to what I had dreamed of in a loving marriage. This sex drought continued for five years until the conception of our second child. Again, we both wanted both our children and strived to give them the best possible life.

However in the relationship between my wife and I, intimacy became less frequent, if that were at all possible. I became more and more frustrated and depressed with a situation in which I had no control over. My wife seemed to hold all the cards, and although she never uttered the words "No sex" her lack of interest and response spoke volumes. She never once initiated sex during our entire marriage. I am ashamed to this day that I begged her to consider what was happening to our relationship. I told her that we were more like brother and sister than husband and wife. I said that I never entered into our marriage agreeing to that proviso and that I felt that I had been duped. With my humble assistance (and sperm) she had produced two grandchildren for her parents and had been faithful to her Catholic upbringing and as a mother had done her duty.

I argued what about the relations between us? Were we simply living cogs in the child production machinery? Now that we had produced our two boys...was that an end to our future intimate relationship? We argued but she remained passively resolute and would not concede any of my points. I knew that my situation was hopeless and that I would never win in any divorce proceedings. The bulk of my meagre salary would be spent on supporting my family, and I would be left lonely trying to rent some hovel and living on pet food. Never in all the time I was with my wife, both before and after our marriage did I ever dream that I would find myself in such a black place. There were numerous occasions when I would wait till she fell asleep, then stared at the ceiling quietly sobbing. In hindsight I was experiencing grief for the loss of what I believed was a solid relationship with my wife. My frustrations were based on my feelings of impotence in that I would never be able to get my wife on the same page whatever I did or said.

I felt a strong sense of betrayal...this was not the life I had ever envisaged for us and myself. Yes there was affection but there was no passion. After years of failed attempts at initiating conjugal relations, I decided to simply give up. I went through very mixed emotions, angry at the seeming betrayal by my wife, livid at myself for allowing me to get into the position I was in where I had little to no control over my love life. I tried so hard to bury any sexual thoughts during my interactions with my wife, but every now and again they would rise to the surface. I must also admit that porn helped me take the edge off when things got too down.

So there we were, married with two boys living in the burbs trying to eke out a satisfying existence. Things went on smoothly as long as I never raised the issue of our lack of intimacy.

As I mentioned in my previous review/essay, I decided that following our second child, I would give my wife a birthday present, even though it was in fact my birthday. I volunteered for a vasectomy since we were both agreed that we didn't want any more kids. As I have previously outlined, my wife indicated that with the vasectomy, fears of accidental pregnancy would mean less stress and our intimate life would improve as a result. I so wanted to believe my wife's vision. Unfortunately, things remained exactly the same as before except now I was sterile. I felt like a complete idiot, duped into thinking that things would improve. But the sexual drought continued. Now after having undergone the procedure I was seething with white hot anger. I had been fucked over completely and was very, very unhappy. At this stage, I had left the council job and had managed to get a job as a teacher in a city community college. With a home life less than satisfying, I threw myself into the job. I took on classes at night in addition to the daytime classes and even began doing some consulting involving training. My love life at home was in the toilet but at least I tried to be the best provider I could.

I should have manned up and been totally honest with my wife. I should have asked her for a commitment and her participation in our intimate life; that not being desired by her, then a divorce. But to my everlasting regret, I didn't. I am ashamed to say it I had an affair. I met an attractive middle aged woman who was also married with children, and we talked about our respective marriages including their shortcomings. She felt that her husband no longer treated her as an equal partner and was more concerned with her ability to produce children. They had also entered a phase of non-communication about their individual feelings. We both agreed that we felt angry and unappreciated by our respective spouses. We came to a mutual conclusion that we needed to have our sexual needs met and looked to one another for that release. We never agreed to get emotionally involved and stated that it was simply the opportunity to give each other satisfaction since our respective spouses seemed unwilling to do. Sex between us was unbelievably erotic and a sensory overload. We both wanted to ensure that we were sated.

The relationship continued for about a year until it crashed and burned when my wife found some raunchy letters my paramour had written to me. I was totally calm and open as I talked to my wife and told her about the details of my extramarital affair. I explained to my wife the feelings of spousal rejection that had led to this. I explained that both my sex partner and myself did not want the relationship to result in the breaking up of our respective marriages. I also emphasised that we had individually felt that our respective spouses had appeared to lose interest in loving intimacy. From that time on we entered a strange twilight period where we would focus on the needs of our two boys. We sometimes discussed the affair and what issues it raised for the continuation of our marriage. Obviously at this stage my sex partner and I had amicably decided that we both wanted our marriages to survive.

However at no time after the big blow-up did the intimate relations between my wife and I improve. As the "sinning" spouse, I guessed that I had no longer any credibility to be able to request an improved sex-life with my wife. So things drifted back to the pre-affair days of living like affectionate brother and sister. I again sought solace in masturbation and porn. On some nights when I felt my frustrations coming to the boil I began to sleep in our guest bedroom as I found it easier to sleep without the proximity of my wife's body next to me. So as they say life went on.

After twelve years of this I found myself burnt out as a teacher and suffering from major depression. I was fortunate to find a great psychiatrist who was able to help me stay on an even keel. I was forced to leave my teaching job. Our standard of living based upon me as the only income producer took a nose-dive and we struggled. I thought that my role as the only breadwinner in the family had been taken for granted for so long that when it went all to hell, only then was my contribution somewhat appreciated, although somewhat belatedly.

We were able to just manage on my superannuation payout. In 2001, my wife awoke to find that one of her legs had swollen up at least four times the size of the other leg. I took her to the local hospital where we waited to receive some medical attention. After conducting a number of tests it was found that my wife had a rare soft tissue tumour that had wrapped itself around her vena cava leading to the restriction of her femoral artery - hence the swelling. We were taken to a larger hospital where she was scheduled for surgery to remove the tumour. After an operation that took about nine hours the lead surgeon came out in his scrubs to explain what had been done. The majority of the tumour had been excised, but he had noted that there were white patches found on the surface of her liver. While she regained her health from the surgery, a follow-up appointment discussed what we had been dreading - the major tumour had led to secondary tumours throughout her liver. We were absolutely stunned. My wife was offered a course of chemotherapy in an attempt to shrink the secondary cancers, and she put herself through the ringer. I would have given anything to have had the cancer instead of her, and didn't want to even contemplate life without her in it. The operation and chemotherapy gave her an additional 2 and a half years with us. The chemo was unable to slow on the growth and spread of the liver tumours. Her complexion eventually showed signs of severe jaundice and she gradually weakened.

She wanted to come home from the hospital rather than stay in so an ambulance dropped her off at home and she was carried into our bedroom. She looked very ill and I was bereft as to how to make her more comfortable. I stayed by her side for twenty-four hours and we talked. During one of these times, without our sons, she turned to me and said in a quiet voice:

"I wished we had made love more..."

My immediate reaction was intense sadness. I guess I interpreted it as far too little, too late but I didn't want to reveal my inner feelings. I think I replied that there was no time for such regrets. But what I really wanted was to grab one of her hand mirrors and give it to her. I wanted to say "Have a good long look at your reflection...the reason we didn't make more love is staring you in the face...you were responsible for our miserable intimate life and now there is no way to even begin to fix it...what a bloody waste!". But knowing that she was in such a fragile state I did not feel it right to bring her down. So again, I buried my own feelings and continued to be supportive. My wife was taken back to hospital the next day and was taken off life support. I was alerted to her rapid decline and was told by the hospital staff to leave quickly. The drive over was about 40 minutes. When I arrived I found that all the curtains in her room had been drawn. A nurse and hospital chaplin met with me and explained that my wife had died while I had been driving to see her.

I asked to spend some time alone with my wife. Believe it or not the jaundiced complexion had disappeared and she just looked as though she was asleep. I kissed her forehead and held her hand and sobbed. My wife had passed and with her so much potential love had also passed. My guilt over my previous affair washed over me and I had never felt so absolutely alone in my life as I did then. After a while I left the hospital and returned home to inform my sons and phone our friends and family. I cannot clearly recall anything that transpired over the following 18 months. But thanks to my two sons, a few kind friends and my shrink I survived.

If there is one thing that I would like to stress to any readers who find themselves stuck in non-intimate marriages or relationships it is this:

Firstly, understand that as sharp as you feel the pain of anger and frustration, try to remember that there are perhaps literally millions of other poor souls who are also experiencing your torment...you truly are not alone.

Secondly, despite how trapped you may feel you always have choices;

• Suffer in silence; you can put up with it for as long possible and try to survive without succumbing to self-deprecation

• Cheat; find another extramarital partner with whom to share your intimacy and try to cope with the guilt that sneaking around produces (that tends to diminish the transient excitement/pleasure a fling/affair may initially bring, or

• Level with your partner calmly explaining your feelings and fears for your relationship in a non-abusive manner, and encouraging s/he to reveal her/his feelings

Now levelling with your partner may help resolve the impasse your relationship may be experiencing. Conversely, it may also lead to the recognition that differences cannot be resolved and that a separation is the best solution. But take it from someone who has experienced it first-hand, the third choice encourages honest communication and ownership of feelings and ensures that both parties retain their individual personal integrity.