another lesson in life
The price of betrayal
By: Haris Hussain
New Straits Times, 13/1/2010
Choices. Life’s all about choices. You come to a fork in the road, you take it. There are those who just slam on the gas pedal without thinking, and then there are those who mull over it for days on end.
Either way, it’s still pretty much a coin toss.
A couple of weeks ago, I get a call from an old classmate I hadn’t heard from in ages. He sounded tired.
“Can we meet up?” he said, the exhaustion creeping through the phone line. I couldn’t say no.
We meet up a couple of days later at a Bangsar bistro. He looked beat, like he hadn’t slept in days.
“I messed up,” he said, after we ordered mushroom bruschettas and chicken focaccia.
“I had an affair.”
I sat there. Didn’t know what to say. Here’s a man I’d known almost all my life and by all accounts, was an outstanding guy.
A family man married to a gorgeous, wonderful woman (she really is an angel) for the last 18 years, they have three beautiful kids.
“It just happened, man. We met at work. We’d talk occasionally but that was it. We never had lunch or went out together and the next thing I knew, she started flirting with me and it went from there. My mistake was that I entertained her.”
I asked him if he loved her.
“She’s not even my type, dude. I was just messing around. She’s not even worth a second look. I was bored and she was easy.”
“Did you two…” I let my voice trail off.
“Hell, no, man! I wouldn’t even touch her with a 10-foot cattle prod.”
I asked him where he was at in his marriage.
“Sheila (not her real name) found out and threw me out of the house. I’m on my own now. I miss the kids, man. I made a mistake; that woman was a mistake that never should’ve happened.”
I kept quiet for a long time. He wasn’t going to get a sermon; much less from me. I asked him if he knew what he wanted.
“I want my life back. I want my family back. I just want this to go away.”
“Dude, you’re never going to get your life back. And this will never go away. Ever. Your wife, God bless her, will remember, until the day she dies, that you betrayed her.
“I could tell you that maybe this had to happen so that you’d know what’s really important to you. But I won’t, because the price your wife and kids have to pay is just too high.
“You need to take responsibility for what you did. Admit that you made a mistake and throw yourself at her mercy. Keep admitting to her that you messed up.
“Don’t trivialize the hurt your wife’s experiencing. And don’t even think of telling her that the woman meant nothing to you. It doesn’t work that way and it’s the worst thing you could possibly say to her.”
I also told him that the second part was doable but it’s going to be tougher that climbing onto an ostrich and riding it to the finish line at Nebraska State Fair Park.
“You just have to show Sheila that you want her back bad enough.”
Men have this notion that if you talk about a problem a couple of times and come to a conclusion, the matter is resolved. There’s no need to bring it up again. Or, that if you can’t come to a resolution, then there’s no point in talking about it anymore. Women don’t think the same way.
“If she wants to talk about it, you need to sit down and listen. You need to validate her feelings and keep reassuring her. Talk about it for as long as she wants to talk about it. Remember, you screwed up; not her,” I told him.
At the end of it, he thanked me and got up to leave.
“Are you going to be okay?” I asked. He nodded.
“She’s one in a million, you know.”
“Who?” I asked. I had to.
“Sheila. She stayed with me through everything. And what do I do? I start something with someone who’ll never be half the woman my wife is. Bodoh, kan?”
“Yeah, you never were the sharpest tool in the shed.” I laughed.
After we said our goodbyes, I sat down for a minute. Infidelity sucks. Big time. My friend came to a fork in the road and took the wrong turn. Now, he’s paying for it. I hope he makes it.
The other woman, too, had a choice of being faithful to her husband and two kids or going after a married man. She used poor headwork.
My thoughts wander to my wife and kids. I reach for my phone and thumb the keypad.
“Hey. Watcha doin’?” I ask.
“Nothing. What’s up?”
“I just wanted to tell you that I love you.”
“That’s it?”
“And I miss you.”
“Well, hurry home, then,” she said