How not to break up two marriages

Press, 29 May 1981, Page 14

How not to break up two marriages

By

ROSS ASH,

“Sunday Times,” London

Early this year I told my wife that I was leaving her

for another woman. We had been married for nine vears and had three

young children; I had been

having an affair, in the gen

erally accepted sense of the word, for about a month, though the roots of the new relationship stretched back over a very much longer period: certainly it was love, undeniable and overwhelming. Here it is necessary to outline her circumstances — not my wife’s, but Her’s. (Not that women, not that girl, not my mistress, but my lover. I like lover. It may be emotive but it is also explicit). My lover, then is also married and has three young children. Her marriage, like mine, was unsatisfactory but both of us had tried and partly succeeded in making the best of our. unhappinesses. Neither of us was consciously looking for any extramarital diversion; indeed we both did our best not to become involved. My first mistake was never to have given any prior warning to my wife. When the blow fell it was, I now realise, wholly devas-

tating for her. She had simply no idea of what was going on. For the smooth termination of a marriage from which only one partner is keen to escape there should first be a period of gradual and deliberate deterioration; to cushion the blow, there must be warnings, explanations and, in time, unwavering truth. But in my case residual affection and deeply ingrained notions of the indispensability of “good manners” made it hard to hurt my wife's feelings. Mistakenly, my lover and I had hoped by our honest declaration to _ avoid the otherwise inevitable months of rows and recriminations, of silences and suspicions; by a decisive break we might, we thought, engineer the least messy double divorce case ever. How green we were! It is one thing to intend to leave one’s matrimonial home and set up a new household with a new partner: it is quite another in practice. After I had told, my wife, my lover and I first stayed a few days at my lover’s home, with her husband’s stunned consent, while he stayed elsewhere. During this time family and friends were told, and we phoned • parents, siblings and other interested parties with curious courage. Their

initial sympathy and sorrow were quickly replaced by hurt fury, and there were threats, vituperations; seething friends and relatives travelled from hundreds of miles away to plead, to threaten. Every day there were people to see, to explain to, each one of them claiming a special interest and many revealing to us some similar incident from their own pasts. Marriage is mostly a poor deal, they all said, frustrating and unsatisfactory, but grit your teeth and make the miserable best of it; stick with it,, because in a few decades it will all be over. As for love,, have an affair by all means, but don’t think love.has anything to do with marriage. Remember, nobody is happy. I was removed, unwillingly, to stay with a relative abroad, “to think it over.” I didn’t change my mind. On my return there were weeks of moving from house to house living from suitcases. Sometimes we stayed with sympathetic friends, sometimes in rented cottages. My lover’s children went to stay

with their grandparents, while we visited our families. At one time I was forced to return to my wife by her threat of suicide, at another by her despairing notion of abandoning our children just as I had done: I was twice beaten more Or less severely, and once pursued through darkened streets with murderous threats. We were staggered by the violence of some reactions and we saw all too clearly how murder might be done. What we had done, we realised, was to damage the fabric of society. Society may be tolerant and flexible enough to cope with most eventualities: but it seems we pushed too hard. We were to be, at any cost, cajoled or wrenched back to our proper positions. If we refused to be persuaded, and we did refuse, society would do without us. Our mistakes caught up with us. We had given no thought to what, beyond telling our spouses the truth, we should do next. W'e could not continue moving from house to house, relying on the charity of others or on our own dwindling resources. Buying a house was out of the question, so we had to look for somewhere, to rent; ..but

spring was coming, and in our county rents double with the holiday season.

It was difficult to find somewhere to live and the search is not yet over,, though we are now safe for a' few months.

My one-man business languished and all but ceased, money began to run out and work became imperative. But my office and equipment were at home, and to return there was to be harassed by my hurt wife. Debts piled up. a cheque was bounced, the bank manager wrote shrilly to addresses we had abando’ned a week before.

Pressures from everyone showed no signs of relenting; even now, months later, we are still subject to unexpected attacks. But we did find a home. Belongings were transported through the barrage of flak, our new home took shape. We allowed ourselves a sigh of tenative relief.

I returned to work, determined to do my utmost for my two families. Complications are still multiplying, principally over children: who shall have whom how often and for how long. To an outsider the whole tale seems a sorry one, and I have left out things that might have made it less so. But to leave wife and children, home and property has proved, in practical

terms, extremely hard and complicated.

The external pressurs to return to the fold are sometimes blatant — a cut head, a violent row — sometimes insidious -— jealousy, insecurity, despair and impatience — often simply humdrum — lack of money or of shelter — but they are potent and unremitting.

If anyone else is contemplating the same action, be warned that it will upset more people to a greater degree than you could possibly imagine; it will be financially and emotionally ex hausting.

Play by the rules, tell the truth, take time; have sufficient funds to last two families for six months or so: prepare carefully.

Don't live in a small vil lage; if you do, there is n< merit in staying to face th< music: don’t hide; but avoi obtruding unnecessarily.

You will lose some friend: but learn the true value o others; be prepared, if yd' have children, to be withou their comfort until the nei order is established.

Do I have regrets? Fo. others yes: for ourselve: none. The pursuit of happs ness is bound to seem t> others only a grandiloquen excuse for selfishness.