Fundamental Flaws-He said

As I reviewed my earlier posts yesterday, it occurred to me that they are all very similar. We were having a good day, a painful trigger was pulled, we talked it out and got past it. I started thinking that there has to be more to this. It is clear to me that communication is the key to Anne and me moving forward, but we need to do more to truly build a marriage that is stronger than the one we had before. In order to do that we have to really look at what our marriage was before.
The fact is that there was something truly wrong with our marriage before Anne’s infidelity. If there weren’t, we wouldn’t be in this mess. I am NOT going to suggest that any of those flaws excuse Anne’s behavior. Cheating is wrong, inexcusably wrong, but if we don’t examine how we got where we are, we are doomed to find ourselves back where we were. I began thinking about what our marriage was, and what went wrong for us.
I had been, I thought, the model husband. I encouraged her and supported in her pursuing her interests and goals. I helped out around the house. I began each day by making her breakfast and packing her lunch. I had actually heard her friends tell her how lucky she was to have a husband like me. I grew up listening my mom tell me what a good husband was by listening very closely to her complaints about my dad. I had worked very hard to ensure that Anne could not have the same complaints about me. I had molded myself into exactly what I thought was the very image of husbandly perfection, and still, Anne had come to me a couple months ago telling me that she needed to feel loved. “What?! Everything I do is for the sole purpose of showing you how loved you are. How can I possibly do any more?” That conversation ended, and the subject didn’t come up again. I assumed she just needed to be reminded of those things she saw every day, and we were now all better. We weren’t all better though. She just gave up on trying to talk to me about it. Instead, she focused on the relationship that was giving her what she needed. She started spending more and more time on the phone with Dick, and I became more and more fearful of what was happening. My conditioned response to fear is to push it aside. Fear is a debilitating emotion in my book. It affects my decision making in way that can’t be allowed, so I suppress it. I’ve become very good at this. I burry my fear, and focus on the task. It’s a skill I learned as a soldier, and it had always served me well…I thought.
When I was five years old, I was at a friend’s house. We were in his kitchen when I watched his mother give him a hug and kiss and tell him that she loved him. It is one of my clearest childhood memories. When we got outside, I asked him if his mom always did that. “Sure…doesn’t yours?” was his response. I started waiting to hear my mother tell me she loved me that day. I would wait almost twenty years. My mother showed her love for her family by what she did for them. She prepared meals, cleaned the house, and generally put our interests ahead of her own. This is how she said “I love you”. I had become my mother. I knew from my childhood that it needed to be said with words, and Anne and I never let a day end without saying it to each other. She would say it, and I would answer “I love you too”. As I tucked my girls into bed every night, I would tell them that I loved them. I was NOT falling into the pattern my mom had fallen into. My family would never find themselves waiting to hear those words from me. I truly thought I had managed to take the best traits of my parents while avoiding their mistakes. I really, truly believed I was everything a husband and father should be.
The first time Dick called Anne, I was uncomfortable. She told me they had dated, but that it hadn’t been anything serious. They’d not had a physical relationship, and were just good friends. I had good friends who were girls. How was this any different? I was feeling jealousy. Jealousy was bad, and I would not let it come between my wife and me. I was going to be a good husband, set this feeling aside and be supportive. As the contact increased, I became more and more uncomfortable, but I had given my blessing. How could I take issue with this relationship now? His marriage was in trouble. He needed a friend, and Anne might really be able to help. How could I ask her to ignore a friend in need? A good husband wouldn’t be feeling this way. I wanted to be a good husband, so I pushed the feeling aside, put on my supportive face, and took care not to interrupt the conversations that were occurring more frequently and lasting longer. I was putting her feelings ahead of my own. I was being a good husband. Deep down, there was a very real fear that I was no longer first in Anne’s heart, and that if I tried to step between her and Dick, she would confirm my darkest fears. Instead, I put more effort into doing things to show her how much I loved her. I would do whatever it took to remind her just how lucky was to have me. I was going to be the best husband anyone had ever seen. I was, in my mind, the best husband anyone had ever had the weekend I sent Anne off to shop with her girlfriend. When she called, I encouraged her to have a great weekend. I assured her the kids and I were fine. When I found myself missing her and wanting to hear her voice, I forced myself to avoid calling. I didn’t want to interrupt her weekend. I was the perfect husband when Anne found herself in the arms of another. I was the perfect husband…