Colapop
1st June 2006, 11:23
That Bastard
Infidelity, the word has a ring to it, of half-truths, lies, deception, and mistrust. An affair, a one-night no-brainer, a tryst, a fling, whatever term you apply, the facts are there, plain as day. Committing the ultimate marital sin categorises a man as the one who is the bastard. “He did it, not me. It was his fault.” Many excuses are offered by guys who are ‘just being guys’, after all. Women know that any man cannot resist, we’re all ruled by our loins. Those balls serve no other purpose in our lives but to cause havoc in any relationship we’ll ever have. We’re never satisfied with one when we can have them all. So it’s inevitable - we’re born to be bastards. Then there are the guy stories. There’s the guy who’s “ ...not getting it at home, so I have to go somewhere else”, and “I love you (after one date) I’m leaving my wife next month. You’re so good for me”. To say that all guys are bastards is wrong, some people get married, have kids, a mortgage, a dog, and a cat. They live full and interesting lives, are good parents, great lovers, and enjoy retirement holding hands in the sun. Then there’s me.
Me, I’m nothing special. I’ve wandered along through my life so far, taking things as they come not looking too far ahead. I’m not carefree, I don’t party all night and sleep all day. I’m average, just a guy with a job, two beautiful kids, a dog, and a wife. The last one of that list, the last to appear, The Wife. Not a bad person. Kind, compassionate, understanding, and hardworking. Those qualities the make great wives, fun mums, and good lovers. Your mother always told you “She’s such a lovely girl”, and she is. I tried for a long time to be the man she deserves, the man she was trying help be a better man. Maturity, stability, and sanity. All of these things have been given as gifts to me from her. Better than Christmas. I’ve got so much to be thankful for. I’ve got so much, because of her. The question has to be asked, “Why have you left all that behind?” I ask the same questions, so often every day my brain wants to shut down for fear of overload. I should try, one more time. I should compromise more often. I should make more of an effort to make her feel special. Everything about what I’ve done to her seems so wrong. My kids, my beautiful kids. They don’t understand. All they know is Dad’s gone. He comes to visit, but that’s all it is, a visit. He goes away again and he’s not there. He’s not there to stop the fights. He’s not there to rub the bruises. He’s not there to crawl into his bed at night and be comforted after a bad dream. They don’t understand. I don’t understand. All I ever wanted was to have a stress free life, no major hassles, a loving wife and great kids. So why walk away?
Walking away. I’ve told the kids I’m not going anywhere, I’m just up the road, call me anytime - my cell is always on, if you need me I’ll be there straight away. But I’m walking away. Maybe not now, but it’s coming. I don’t want to stay; I can’t hurt them like that. I love them more than I’ll ever know. They say when you go, never look back, the road ahead needs your attention more. But I can hear the pain that they have yet to feel, I can see the tears in their eyes yet to flow, I can hear the murmurs of restless nights and tormented dreams. I won’t be there to make it better. That torments me, the tears are in my eyes, I feel the pain. I do not have a trip planned, I’m not physically leaving, but I am walking away. I’m tearing down the bridges that I had been so eager to build and so willing to maintain. My life is not now what it once was, and it will never be again. I am not the person I once was, I may be better, I may be worse, only time will judge this.
That’s the short version of where I’ve been so far. Life is short they say, so make the most of it. I was never going to be The Bastard. The bastard that left his family. The bastard that walked away. And yet, I am. I am not my father’s son anymore, I’m not my son’s father. So much that could have been achieved will be left undone. Scorn heaped upon the man for his indiscretions is not all warranted, but then so much of it is. Everybody I know has a take on your situation. The brother-in-law, he’s in my boat. He knows where I am, he has been there, he left. He was gone for awhile, had offers, smelled, tasted and sampled the grass on the other side of the fence. And went back. Another mate left, couldn’t go back, and hung himself out dry. Out in the garage of his flash bachelor pad digs, alone. Plenty of horror stories to make going back seem like the best thing since Adam was a cowboy. Adam was never a cowboy, if he was, he would have kept on riding, preferring to take his chances out on the range. There are the ones who meet Miss Right (or Mrs, Ms, or Mr.) the ones who come out the other side scarred but intact. The thing is that, nobody is inside your head like you are. You can’t turn away and pretend to be looking in a shop, walk across the road to some nameless person like they’re your best mate, or ignore yourself completely, eyes fixed straight ahead so as not to make eye contact. You are there still waiting for you, patiently. To take ownership of the position you’re in is tough. Harder than rugby, more difficult than Mastermind. It’s not cerebral and it’s not physical. It’s ownership. The responsibility you’re trying to teach your kids. “Remember the three R’s. Respect for others. Respect for yourself. Responsibility for all your actions.” So does that make what you’ve done a good thing? How do you reconcile the facts? Reconciliation. A term that heralds the healing of a rift. A term that makes forgiveness its friend and confidant. The start of a new beginning.
So I left. All those thoughts coursing though my head, leaving a tired and battered brain, a drained emotive state and an exhausted waking state during the day. I know why I left. I have to be loved, cared for and held. I’m no nancy-boy, not a wimp either. When the outside influence is gone, the work stress, the kids stress, the family stress, all the strain that can be placed on a relationship. When that’s all gone and all there’s left, is the two of you, the facts are there. Almost as clear as black and white. No she is not a bad person. Differences of opinion can be put aside, compromise achieved. The cost is the question. How much will it cost you? Can you step back from yourself far enough to be the person required of you and still be who you are? The risk is you won’t be much better than a puppet on a string. Having so much to contribute to a partnership, but leaving that aside is a waste. Not just for you, but for your kids, your wife, and your family. It’s Catch22, no win. No glory. Scar everyone and stay, scar everyone and leave. That bastard. How could he do this? How are you? Everyone knows your situation better than you and nobody is silent about it. Who knows you? It seems everyone does.
Where to from here? I can’t see the future, I’ve never purported to be a soothsayer, or communicated with the spirit world. I have no answers. To survive is first, I have to eat, sleep and breathe. I’ll see my kids as often as I can, for as long as I’m allowed. I’ll bounce, eventually. I made my choice. If I end up alone in shack living in the woods, then so be it. If I can find love and retire to hold hands in the sunshine of my later years, then so be it. I take ownership of this thing that I decided to do. I do not lay any blame at anyone’s feet but my own. My choice. I have that now, myself - or at least part of him, back again. Spirit, humour, success, and love to give and receive. I’m o.k. Things will still hurt for a while yet, but I have me back.
Infidelity, the word has a ring to it, of half-truths, lies, deception, and mistrust. An affair, a one-night no-brainer, a tryst, a fling, whatever term you apply, the facts are there, plain as day. Committing the ultimate marital sin categorises a man as the one who is the bastard. “He did it, not me. It was his fault.” Many excuses are offered by guys who are ‘just being guys’, after all. Women know that any man cannot resist, we’re all ruled by our loins. Those balls serve no other purpose in our lives but to cause havoc in any relationship we’ll ever have. We’re never satisfied with one when we can have them all. So it’s inevitable - we’re born to be bastards. Then there are the guy stories. There’s the guy who’s “ ...not getting it at home, so I have to go somewhere else”, and “I love you (after one date) I’m leaving my wife next month. You’re so good for me”. To say that all guys are bastards is wrong, some people get married, have kids, a mortgage, a dog, and a cat. They live full and interesting lives, are good parents, great lovers, and enjoy retirement holding hands in the sun. Then there’s me.
Me, I’m nothing special. I’ve wandered along through my life so far, taking things as they come not looking too far ahead. I’m not carefree, I don’t party all night and sleep all day. I’m average, just a guy with a job, two beautiful kids, a dog, and a wife. The last one of that list, the last to appear, The Wife. Not a bad person. Kind, compassionate, understanding, and hardworking. Those qualities the make great wives, fun mums, and good lovers. Your mother always told you “She’s such a lovely girl”, and she is. I tried for a long time to be the man she deserves, the man she was trying help be a better man. Maturity, stability, and sanity. All of these things have been given as gifts to me from her. Better than Christmas. I’ve got so much to be thankful for. I’ve got so much, because of her. The question has to be asked, “Why have you left all that behind?” I ask the same questions, so often every day my brain wants to shut down for fear of overload. I should try, one more time. I should compromise more often. I should make more of an effort to make her feel special. Everything about what I’ve done to her seems so wrong. My kids, my beautiful kids. They don’t understand. All they know is Dad’s gone. He comes to visit, but that’s all it is, a visit. He goes away again and he’s not there. He’s not there to stop the fights. He’s not there to rub the bruises. He’s not there to crawl into his bed at night and be comforted after a bad dream. They don’t understand. I don’t understand. All I ever wanted was to have a stress free life, no major hassles, a loving wife and great kids. So why walk away?
Walking away. I’ve told the kids I’m not going anywhere, I’m just up the road, call me anytime - my cell is always on, if you need me I’ll be there straight away. But I’m walking away. Maybe not now, but it’s coming. I don’t want to stay; I can’t hurt them like that. I love them more than I’ll ever know. They say when you go, never look back, the road ahead needs your attention more. But I can hear the pain that they have yet to feel, I can see the tears in their eyes yet to flow, I can hear the murmurs of restless nights and tormented dreams. I won’t be there to make it better. That torments me, the tears are in my eyes, I feel the pain. I do not have a trip planned, I’m not physically leaving, but I am walking away. I’m tearing down the bridges that I had been so eager to build and so willing to maintain. My life is not now what it once was, and it will never be again. I am not the person I once was, I may be better, I may be worse, only time will judge this.
That’s the short version of where I’ve been so far. Life is short they say, so make the most of it. I was never going to be The Bastard. The bastard that left his family. The bastard that walked away. And yet, I am. I am not my father’s son anymore, I’m not my son’s father. So much that could have been achieved will be left undone. Scorn heaped upon the man for his indiscretions is not all warranted, but then so much of it is. Everybody I know has a take on your situation. The brother-in-law, he’s in my boat. He knows where I am, he has been there, he left. He was gone for awhile, had offers, smelled, tasted and sampled the grass on the other side of the fence. And went back. Another mate left, couldn’t go back, and hung himself out dry. Out in the garage of his flash bachelor pad digs, alone. Plenty of horror stories to make going back seem like the best thing since Adam was a cowboy. Adam was never a cowboy, if he was, he would have kept on riding, preferring to take his chances out on the range. There are the ones who meet Miss Right (or Mrs, Ms, or Mr.) the ones who come out the other side scarred but intact. The thing is that, nobody is inside your head like you are. You can’t turn away and pretend to be looking in a shop, walk across the road to some nameless person like they’re your best mate, or ignore yourself completely, eyes fixed straight ahead so as not to make eye contact. You are there still waiting for you, patiently. To take ownership of the position you’re in is tough. Harder than rugby, more difficult than Mastermind. It’s not cerebral and it’s not physical. It’s ownership. The responsibility you’re trying to teach your kids. “Remember the three R’s. Respect for others. Respect for yourself. Responsibility for all your actions.” So does that make what you’ve done a good thing? How do you reconcile the facts? Reconciliation. A term that heralds the healing of a rift. A term that makes forgiveness its friend and confidant. The start of a new beginning.
So I left. All those thoughts coursing though my head, leaving a tired and battered brain, a drained emotive state and an exhausted waking state during the day. I know why I left. I have to be loved, cared for and held. I’m no nancy-boy, not a wimp either. When the outside influence is gone, the work stress, the kids stress, the family stress, all the strain that can be placed on a relationship. When that’s all gone and all there’s left, is the two of you, the facts are there. Almost as clear as black and white. No she is not a bad person. Differences of opinion can be put aside, compromise achieved. The cost is the question. How much will it cost you? Can you step back from yourself far enough to be the person required of you and still be who you are? The risk is you won’t be much better than a puppet on a string. Having so much to contribute to a partnership, but leaving that aside is a waste. Not just for you, but for your kids, your wife, and your family. It’s Catch22, no win. No glory. Scar everyone and stay, scar everyone and leave. That bastard. How could he do this? How are you? Everyone knows your situation better than you and nobody is silent about it. Who knows you? It seems everyone does.
Where to from here? I can’t see the future, I’ve never purported to be a soothsayer, or communicated with the spirit world. I have no answers. To survive is first, I have to eat, sleep and breathe. I’ll see my kids as often as I can, for as long as I’m allowed. I’ll bounce, eventually. I made my choice. If I end up alone in shack living in the woods, then so be it. If I can find love and retire to hold hands in the sunshine of my later years, then so be it. I take ownership of this thing that I decided to do. I do not lay any blame at anyone’s feet but my own. My choice. I have that now, myself - or at least part of him, back again. Spirit, humour, success, and love to give and receive. I’m o.k. Things will still hurt for a while yet, but I have me back.