March 3, 2012 § 48 Comments
I saw a friend yesterday and he confided in me about his marital difficulties. I urged him to hang on in there. He says he is deeply in love with his wife, still, after all these years, but that she is having fantasies of freedom and passion and transporting love and he is not sure how much longer he can stand her distance and independence and the sense of rejection. I said, that is all very well, coming from someone in a marriage in which her husband loves and adores her and gives her great support, stability, and freedom. It would be a different story if he were to leave her. Then she may find those fantasies rather turn to dust in the face of the realities faced by lone women of nearly fifty. I said, put her together with me for ten minutes and I would set her to rights!
Although I don’t know his wife at all well, I like her. Damaged in some ways, sure, (aren’t we all?) but warm and friendly. As he talked about his love for her, how he had never once been unfaithful to her, and so forth, I thought, God this woman is looking a gift horse in the mouth. He admitted he had his faults – and listed them, very honestly – but he is supportive, loving, generous, and by no means some wimpy doormat. I told him that if he left her – which he is considering for all sorts of reasons, much though he doesn’t want to – there would be no end of contenders for his attentions. (I was not using this as an argument for him to do so, I may add!)
“But I don’t want that,” he said simply, his thick, unmissable wedding ring glinting. “I love her.”
Quite so, but if he did leave her, he would probably be devastated, screw around for a few months and find someone else soon enough to fall in love with, who might but might not ever “replace” her. And her? Not so much. Way of the world. I told him about me and my struggles and, very sweetly, he couldn’t believe it. Eventually, he agreed this world in this respect is favoured towards men, and his wife’s fantasy notions would turn to dust as he was getting over her, moving on, and re-marrying. He then told me a story.
“I went to a shop yesterday to try something out which they were sorting for me. I had to give the woman my number so she could ring to let me know when to come and collect it. Later that evening I got a call from her. She said her name. I said, Sorry, who? She told me and I said hello, rather surprised, this being 7.15pm. ‘Just to let you know it’s ready,’ she said. I thanked her and said I’d be in to collect it in the morning. ‘Er, what are you doing tonight?’ she asked. I told her I was in a cab on my way to visit a friend. ‘Ah,’ she said, ‘I’m really bored. Not doing anything. Sigh.’ I’m 55; she was, what, 29? I don’t remember women ever being so blatant and ballsy. I sympathised that she was bored, and that was the end of it, but I was so taken aback, I told the cab driver what had just happened. He said, ‘You are bang in there, mate.’ It was unbelievable.”
His story did make me think about my own pathetic attempts at “spinning”. These women are shameless. Spinning is gentle and age-old, if a touch manipulative, and I am way behind here. These young women are in a whole other sphere. Forget spinning. They are fucking bulldozing.