Weird, weirder and strange.
Weird is when you reconnect with someone after many years who proclaims his undying love for you. I mean imagine how weird that must be. I was reading the New Yorker magazine the other day and I read something that caused me to think about this type of occurrence. I am sure that it’s common. He’s married, of course, with a few daughters and a son whom he proclaimed to dislike immensely.
As the story usually goes, the wife, after many years of marriage, had him sleeping on the couch. The sex, naturally, was non-existent. Or so he said. Our communication persisted over a period of time: texts, emails, phone calls, and sharing photos and secrets. The usual. However, distance enforced our separateness.
Weirder is when you realize that, somehow, the wife has become privy to all of it. He is very far away so there is no way to verify any of the story’s grinding parts. It is also easy to assume that it was possibly the safety of distance that gave him the feeling of completely perfidious and false invincibility. And worse, that clearly the wife had been given the impression that I was the miscreant.
Oddly, as happens often, it is quite easy, I imagine, to paint an ugly picture so that the wife does not, understandably, run away from him as fast as she can. (My mother once taught me: “There is no shame in running away as fast as you can in order to preserve yourself, Annie!”). Men, not unlike women, can be utter pigs sometimes. However, I personally believe that women are more desperate than men to preserve their precarious glass-house-y status quo and will grasp onto any fable that they are fed in order to re-instill credibility in their (allegedly) dead marriage so that their hand is not forced.
Strangely scary, don’t you think?