Tonight I went to the pub with various people, forgetting for the third year in a row that going out in Cambridge on St. Patrick’s Day is not the most congenial choice.
We were lucky to snag two stools and a bit of wall at the Pickerel, where we were crammed up against each other. I had my back to the room and strangers kept jostling against me and actually pushing my body back and forth as they struggled through the crowd. At some point a posh young academic insinuated himself in our trio, put his face right in front of mine, and shouted I love your glasses!
That never happens here though it is a routine part of life back in the states. I patiently had the stock discussion about where I purchased them, where I’m from, whether or not Frasier is an accurate depiction of Seattle, etc.
Then I had a highly entertaining conversation with my friends that skipped across various topics and briefly settled on the case of a mutual acquaintance who has a Play While Away policy that his spouse does not know about.
One person took the position that the antics are justified because of various domestic complications. I of course believe that telling the truth is of paramount importance.
Beyond that, if we all know about the infidelities the wife is going to find out eventually. But our opinions on the subject are not particularly relevant, other than my statement I’m still not going to introduce him to any of my hot friends!
Later in the evening I received email from an old friend that read I found a job – now I can divorce my wife!
From what I could discern the end of the relationship was not precipitated by an event, just a long slow drift away from whatever mattered when the couple met thirteen years ago. It would appear that the split is amicable, the only real point of concern being custody of a much loved dog.
This struck me as quite civilized compared to what other people I know are dealing with.
A few months ago I met another friend in a cafe in Paris and listened as he told me that his partner had embarked on an affair. He was desperately unhappy about the situation and after talking for hours asked How can I make my wife love me again?
My instinct was to deconstruct the ideas behind make and my and wife but he needed support, not my ongoing sociological research inquiries. I answered She does love you. She is staying with you, you have children and careers and a home, you share a life.
He shook his head and said No, that isn’t enough. How do I make her fall in love with me again?
His pain washed over me and I knew that I could not help him, that I’d never experienced the sort of love he was talking about, or if I had, it was so long ago the memory is buried in the wreckage of my youth.
I wanted to cry. I shook my head and replied I’m sorry. You can’t.