How Do the Scales Balance?

Tilly seemed genuinely shocked that other people knew of her interludes, but the fact remained that other people knew she'd cheated on me. That wasn't huge, but it was a consideration. No one wants to look like the fool. If we stayed married I'd see those people from time to time.

She'd gone unprotected at least once too. Clearly not thinking about her husband waiting faithfully at home. She claimed to love me, but her actions made the implications of that love cloudy to me.

Everything I'd heard pointed to casual, opportunistic sex on her part. Which I couldn't really understand. I understood the principle, but for the life of me I just didn't get how someone thinks sex isn't important enough to limit to an intimate relationship. I wouldn't judge others if they'd come to an explicit agreement with their partner, but my partner never secured that agreement. We talked about exclusivity early on, and we agreed. But either we didn't define it very well or Tilly felt like there was a loophole somewhere I couldn't see.

She wanted to move forward, to stay married, but it sounded like a no-harm-no-foul thing, that the focus was moving me past my pain, essentially ignoring accountability for her transgressions. Probably because she didn't think of them as transgressions.

And now what was I going to do?

I loved Tilly. Always have. She and I were in sync about everything. Well, make that almost everything. We were intertwined. Separating us would be incredibly painful and incredibly difficult on just about every level there is. We were best friends. We had young kids together. Families that we loved and who loved us. Same with friends. A house. A share of a vacation cabin. Investments. Retirement plans. And all the dreams we shared.

Divorce would suck. Big time. The process and the aftermath both. I couldn't see a thing that would be good about divorce. But once it was done I could rebuild my confidence and maybe find a partner better aligned with my values. That wasn't a certain outcome by any means, but I was a decent guy, earnest, hard-working, reliable. There had to be women who appreciated that enough to stay true.

Tilly's betrayal cut me very deep. I was at a complete and total loss for how she thought it was permissible to fuck around on me. And while she seemed genuinely empathetic to my pain I never heard her apologize for fucking those guys. She just said it didn't mean anything. The pain I felt last night was muted now, but I knew it would return again and again. The feelings of inadequacy, of foolishness, of rejection were cried out, exhausted, but they were gathering again, and when they gained enough strength they'd be back full force. I hoped those feelings would dull over time, but I didn't share Tilly's confidence that they could be healed. And I knew I'd never trust her not to stray again.

Trust.

Every relationship sits on a foundation of trust. Will you do what you tell me you will do? We take chances with our time, our money, our feelings when we believe in someone, when we trust them. I had trusted Tilly completely. I'd honored my commitments to her. She hadn't done the same to me. That tilted the scales of our marriage heavily to her side. And I couldn't think of any way to restore the balance.

I wasn't going to have an affair.

Sex to me was as much emotional as physical, and so if I was to have an affair it would mean my commitments to Tilly no longer mattered. And that's how I saw Tilly's fucking around: as her ending her commitments to me.

I wanted her to convince me that we should stay married. I needed her to do that because I couldn't see it on my own. I needed to talk to her again.

I drove home.

* * * * *

I'd taken a shower after Aaron left. I ate a slice of toast with the rhubarb jam his mother had sent at the end of summer. Then I sat at the kitchen table and waited. I tried not to overthink our situation, but my mind still raced. I just had to find a way through to Aaron. For me, for him, for our kids. How could I get him to see that the important thing was our marriage, our family? Sex with Randy and the salesman was trivial in comparison. Not even just in comparison; I never thought about it once it was over.

It had been a couple hours since he walked out when I heard the garage door again. I quickly put my plate, knife, and coffee cup into the dishwasher and hurried into the family room. We were not going to have another conversation sitting at the kitchen table.

Our family room was set up with a sectional shaped like an L, and the TV and shelves holding all of our family's important books and knick-knacks faced the open end. We didn't have any other seating space in the room. I sat in the middle of the sectional, so no matter where he sat Aaron would be within my reach. Feeling my love through my touch would help him see my devotion to him and to our family.

"Till?"

"In here."

Aaron hesitated when he saw me, then came and sat in the seat nearest to the doorway. I smiled at him. I couldn't help it. I loved this man. He gave me a perfunctory nod, and then looked away. His pain radiated off of him. I reached over and gently laid my hand on his shoulder. He tensed, but he didn't pull away. I squeezed and then brought my hand back. Little steps.

"Where did you go?"

"The mall."

"Can I get you something to drink?"

"No, I'm good."

"Okay." I looked at him, waiting, but he didn't raise his gaze. "What are you thinking, hon?"

Aaron shrugged. "I just don't understand. Why?"

"I told you. It was nothing, honey. Not anything at all. Certainly nothing to do with you."

"It has everything to do with me, Till. Everything."

"No, Aaron. You were here, I was there. And it meant nothing to me at all."

He nodded ruefully. "And there it is, I guess. The difference I never noticed before. When we're not in the same place I still think of us being together. Inseparable, even when distance intervenes."

"And how does that make sense, hon? We can't be inseparable when we're not together." I smiled at him as I said, "I thought literalism was your domain."

"You're joking about this?"

Teasing was always our way of lightening the mood, but we were much farther apart than I feared. That realization jolted me.

"I'm sorry. I don't know what to do here, Air. I'm at a loss to show you how much this doesn't matter. I feel like our marriage is in jeopardy. I see that you're hurting, and that makes me hurt. But I don't know what to say to make it better."

"Why did you do it?"

He was so fixated on the sex that he wasn't hearing what I was saying. So I repeated myself. "I told you, honey. I was horny, Randy was horny, the circumstances were right, and it just happened. It doesn't mean anything."

Aaron sighed, and that seemed to release all of his energy. He normally sat straight up, but now he just sagged.

"It doesn't mean anything to you. It means a helluva lot to me."

"Why?" I almost shouted in my frustration. "It didn't involve you at all. If you hadn't heard Ted say something last night you would still be happy with our marriage, right?"

He shrugged.

"Yes, you would. You know that. And I am still that same woman, still your wife, still devoted to your happiness and our family. I am exactly the same as I was yesterday, when you were happy with me. I don't understand how you can't see that!"

"And I don't understand how you can't see that while you might be the same woman that you were yesterday, I thought you were the same woman I married, before you you fucked someone other than me. You promised to be exclusive, Till, and you weren't. You promised."

"But I have been! I've never loved anyone but you, Aaron. Ever. That was true when we dated, when we were engaged, when we were married. Every single day since I met you I've never loved anyone else."

I thought our talk was finally getting somewhere, but Aaron just looked more and more sad. He nodded, but it was a resigned nod. He moved to get up, but I moved faster, clasping my arms around him. I pushed my forehead into his shoulder.

"No! Stay with me! We can fix this. We have to fix this."

He relaxed enough to stay seated, but he stayed tense enough to keep from molding into me.

"There's nothing to fix, Till. I can see that our marriage has always been this way."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"To me, our commitments to each other were total. Emotional. Intellectual. Spiritual. And physical. You never saw it the same way. You're emotionally committed to me, maybe even intellectually and spiritually. But not physically. We were never in balance, Till. I thought we were, but we weren't. And I don't see how we can get it in balance."

"But we are in balance, honey. I know you love me. I feel it every single day. And I love you just as much."

"No, you don't. Or you wouldn't have fucked around."

That again. Aaron was a smart guy. Why couldn't he see it? I needed him see it.

"What I did with Randy and that other guy really did have nothing to do with you. As soon as it was over it was out of my mind. I don't care about them at all. I do care about you. I love you more than anyone I've ever met. You are my perfect partner."

"Tilly, I carry around our marriage wherever I go. It's fused to me, to my identity. You and the kids, but especially you, are always foremost in my thoughts whenever I have to make a decision. I choose everything with you in mind. Everything. When I decide what to get for lunch I think about what we've planned for dinner. When someone asks me if I want tickets to a game I check my calendar to see if we have plans, then I think about what you might want to do with me during that time, and only if there's no possible conflict do I think about whether or not I want to go. It's automatic. But when you were deciding to fuck some other man, where was the thought of me? Best case you didn't think of me at all, because if you did and you still went ahead with it, then you'd just be a calculating bitch. And I don't think you're that."

Calculating bitch? That put me on my heels. That hurt more than anything I could imagine. Tears came to my eyes. He was so far off the mark. I did love him. More than anything else in the world. How could I convince him?

'Aaron, you have to know how much I love you. You have to. Open your heart, my love. You'll see the truth there."

"I don't think you want to see what's in my heart right now, Till."

"Trust your feelings, Air. Look into your heart, and you'll see the truth of how much I love you."

"Love isn't the only feeling in there, Tilly. It's not even the most prominent. Hurt is in there too. Anger. Fear. And Grief. A lot of grief."

"But why?" I squeezed him again, but he remained sitting stiffly. "Let me in, Air. Let me in. We can heal this. We can."

"I'll heal, and you'll undoubtedly be part of that, but I don't see it happening right now. We're out of balance, Till. And until I can figure out if we can ever get back in balance I can't be with you." He gently pulled my arms loose, then stood. "I'm going to pack a few things. I'll let you know where I end up."

This was such a nightmare. I watched him walk away, and his whole body looked defeated. We had to fix it. But he had to want to fix it, and it didn't look like he did. I was frustrated, upset, scared. How could I get through to him?

* * * * *

I went back to the Residence Inn. I texted Tilly when I checked back in.

I had listened to her, and I heard everything she said -- and didn't say. To Tilly, the emotional commitment was all that mattered; she truly believed that sex with the other guys was essentially meaningless, something that happened far away from our marriage. She came home believing she was still true to me because that sex never intruded on her feelings for me or our kids or our family. The sex was distinct, outside our commitments and our plans. I never twigged to her infidelity because she had no guilt about it. To her it was just sex, and no different than going out for a drink with friends.

But that didn't match at all what I believed a marriage to be.

I was open to reconciliation, but I just didn't see how we could get there. I was never going to cheat on Tilly, so the only way to move forward with her was to accept her betrayal and forgive her for it. And that would always leave the scales of our marriage tilted. Combine that with her lack of remorse and her philosophy that there were exceptions to everything in life, and I had no confidence that she wouldn't do it again. And I knew I couldn't withstand that. She didn't believe she'd betrayed me, but I felt it, and the pain it spawned seemed bottomless.

How do you process something like your partner seeking sex elsewhere?

The person whose love is the most important thing to you. You've built every aspect of your life around her and your marriage to her, committing to her for life by creating children and a home to share. You trust her with your fears and insecurities, knowing she loves you in spite of them, and that love manifests itself by sharing your bodies with each other. It's the tangible expression of your mutual love. You know she loves only you because she makes love with only you.

Until you discover that safeguarding and respecting your love isn't that important to her after all. Until you know that you're not enough for her. Until you know that you didn't rate a thought when she felt horny after a professional success. Until you know that she wouldn't sacrifice a passing physical thrill for your marriage. The disconnect between your expectations and her behavior is immense, and the pain that the disconnect births is proportionally mammoth.

I screamed my emotional agony into my pillows again that night. And for many nights that followed. It was the only way I could release it. And it left me exhausted. I talked to my boss and explained in broad terms that my marriage seemed to be ending and that I needed time away to manage it. Maxine had always been empathetic, and this time was no different. She just asked me to keep an eye on email while I did what I needed to do.

We did go out with the girls to celebrate Tilly's promotion, and the kids' excitement helped us keep the dinner light and mostly normal. We went home together, and Tilly and I did our usual nighttime prep with the girls. Once they were in bed and read to and kissed several times, I grabbed my coat.

"When are you coming home, Air?"

"I don't know."

"I miss you."

"Yeah. Same."

"Can we talk about it?"

"I don't think there's anything left to say. I know what you think. Now I just need to figure out what I think."

"Come home, honey. Let me work it through with you. Like we always do. You know we're a great team."

"That won't work this time, Till."

I did go to the house after work every night and in the morning on my days to get the girls ready. We wanted to keep things as normal as possible for as long as possible. Weekends were harder, but we managed. I got there before Annie and Kiley woke up. They didn't get to "surprise" us in bed any longer, but with everything else being constant for them they didn't seem to notice.

I felt myself moving away from Tilly though, and she could feel it too. She implored me to return home, tried to convince me that we could move forward together like we always had. She finally surprised me one night after we got the girls down.

"Let's go to counseling, honey. We're stuck, and we need help. Otherwise I'm afraid you'll just leave us for good."

I thought it was interesting that she thought I was leaving her when I felt she'd never invested in our marriage like I had. My second thought was that our disparate perspectives were an excellent reason for trying therapy. She found a counselor, and after a quick look at online reviews and her credentials I agreed.

Pratishta Bhandari was an earthy woman, heavyset, but with eyes that were bright and active and a soothing voice that held only a hint of an accent. Her manner wasn't exactly direct, taking time to explore our thoughts and feelings about whatever matter was under discussion, but she didn't shy away from asking questions that attacked the heart of the matter once the foundational work was complete. And she was very articulate and precise in her language, especially around emotions.

It was near the end of our second session when Pratishta got us to the sticking point. We'd recounted our history together and my recent awareness of Tilly's infidelity. There were no surprises for either of us, but Pratishta was getting the contours of our marriage fixed in her mind.

"Please correct me if I'm wrong, but it seems that you, Tilly, feel like your promises to Aaron are intact because the sex you had with other men didn't affect your emotional commitment to him."

Tilly nodded and smiled. "Yes!"

"And you, Aaron, feel like she betrayed those promises because to you they included physical fidelity, not just emotional fidelity."

"Yes."

"And Tilly, you don't think you need forgiveness because you don't think you did anything to be forgiven for."

Tilly frowned. "No, I hurt Aaron. And I feel bad about that. I want his forgiveness for hurting him."

"So you're sorry that you had sex with other men because it hurt Aaron?"

"Exactly! I'm very sorry about that. I never wanted to hurt my husband."

"Aaron, how do you feel about what Tilly's saying?"

"I know that she's sorry about hurting me. She's not a monster. She knows that she hurt me -- badly -- and she's been clear that she regrets my pain. But she's never apologized for those acts that created that pain, because she doesn't think they were wrong."

"That's not true!" Tilly exclaimed. "I do regret them. I didn't want to hurt you."

"Tilly, it's Aaron's turn to share what he's thinking and feeling. You'll get your chance too."

"No, I'm done. She regrets them only because they hurt me. She doesn't see them as betrayal in and of themselves. I do. And that tells me she might do it again. I don't know if I can get past the pain now. It would kill me if I faced it again."

"But I wouldn't!"

"Tilly, you are who you are. A wonderful, smart, warm-hearted woman. But you believe in exceptions, in carve-outs. No absolutes, right? But this is a hard absolute for me. It always has been, which is why it hurts so much to know you don't hold our marriage the same way I hold it. And if I have to protect myself against you, well, that's not the kind of marriage I want. You're not a bad person, Tilly, but I don't think you're the right person for me to be married to."

"Honey, please give me a chance. I can do this."

"Maybe you can. But do you really believe that there won't be any possible exceptions for the rest of your life? That there's absolutely no circumstance where you'd consider having sex with another man?"

Tilly has always been honest. Maybe not always full-disclosing, but honest. And I saw in her eyes the exact moment she thought of a possible exception. And she saw in my eyes that I saw it, and I think she knew in that very moment that we were done.

* * * * *

I can't believe we're divorced.

Aaron and I were soulmates, absolutely perfect for each other, but we aren't married any longer. I was there every step of the way from that awful night at the hotel, and every day it seemed we just fell farther and farther down the rabbit hole. I still can't really make sense of what happened. And for the smallest of reasons. I never gave anyone else the slightest bit of love I had for Aaron. Never.

I thought for sure the counseling would work for us. Pratishta got us to see our disconnect, but where I was sure we could overcome it, Aaron couldn't see a way forward. And I think he just stopped trying. I pleaded and pleaded with him to come home, to make love with me, to trust in the cocoon of love we had built for us and our children, but he was resolute.