Home' Trinidad and Tobago Guardian : November 15th 2015 Contents | THROUGH A GUY'S EYES |
By "Dr. Stephen"
BARBARA'S BEHAVIOR becomes so mind-boggling after I agree to
move out that I think it will take me months to get over. Bear in
mind, reader, that I am not making any of this up; it all actually hap-
pened. At the end of July she books a trip to the UK with our two
daughters, saying she needs a break. Even though they will miss my
birthday and my dad's birthday I'm still trying to salvage things, and
agree that she can take them on a holiday. At the beginning of Au-
gust (still none the wiser as to the affair) I agree to a separation, and
she is absolutely ecstatic. She starts talking to me again. Her wed-
ding ring comes off. A week later she brings her paramour home for
a visit. The two of them sit down and they chat to me as if every-
thing was absolutely normal.
Saturday the 15th of August will remain a date for me to remember
for the rest of my life. It's four o'clock in the afternoon and I'm home
alone. To this day I still don't remember where she had taken the chil-
dren. I see her iPad and I decide to look through her emails. God for-
give me, I knew it was wrong to snoop, but I couldn't help myself.
And there the messages were. A cold, sick feeling enters my body
and I can feel my fingers go numb as I read them. August 8th: "I will
always be here for you," she tells him. August 15th: "I just love you,"
he says. She replies "I love you too, darling." At six o'clock in the morn-
ing, too: she's told another man she loves him, then she's gotten up
and interacted with me as if all were normal. I cuddle the iPad as if it
were the most precious thing in the world, and call my sister and my
cousin. I don't know what I'm feeling, and I don't what to do. The
world as I know it has been shattered.
I don't want to spoil the kids' holiday, so I decide not to confront her
until they return from the UK in ten days' time. My emotions are all
over the place. Anger, sorrow, hatred. I cry like I've never cried before. I
don't think there's anywhere in Trinidad that I haven't cried. At work.
In the bathroom. In the car. In my house. My entire world is one of
soul-destroying sadness and anger. But the worst is yet to come.
The day after they come back from holiday I confront her. No shout-
ing or screaming on my part.
"I know about you and Linus," I tell her.
"But I haven't done anything wrong," Barbara says. "All we've done is
talk. I haven't slept with him. Things only happened recently."
"What do you mean you haven't done anything wrong? You've told
another man that you love him, and we're still married! How are you
not being unfaithful?" I'm totally confused. Barbara was a scholarship
winner. Can she really not see that what she's done is wrong? She
doesn't answer me for a while, and then she says, "Linus has a lot of
respect for you, by the way. And I feel very close to his children."
Barbara has absolutely no remorse for what she's done.
She can't even see that she's got no moral foundation left with our
What will she say if their husbands do the same thing to them?
That he didn't do anything wrong, either? Over the next few days I
have to watch my young daughters' confusion as I leave the house
every evening. I'm not a part of bath or bed time anymore, and it's
the most grievous thing in the world to see the hurt and bewilder-
ment in their eyes as well. The tears continue apace. I wonder if I will
ever stop crying, not realizing that what I'm doing is grieving for my
At some point over the next few days, Barbara tells me again that
she hasn't done anything wrong. Then I realize that she's seeing her
lover socially, even though we're still married. Family gatherings. A
birthday party. She's got absolutely no shame whatsoever. But this
isn't the woman I married, surely? Eventually, it all comes down to
having too much self-respect to stay married to her. I file for a di-
vorce at the end of September and tell her to her face. She texts me
thirty minutes later to say that she's done the same. The final act of
depravity is that she filed for a divorce on the same day in August
that I dropped them to the airport. She went to lawyer's office,
signed the petition, came back home and packed suitcases. I could
have been served with a divorce petition on my birthday. And for six
weeks, she never said a word to me. It's all too sordid, and I had no
choice but to get divorced.
I don't know what I'm
feeling, and I don't what
to do. The world as I know
it has been shattered.
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