I have always thought cheating was cheating, how can there be a good cheater and a bad cheater? they all break your heart, they all break a vow, they all disrespect you. James introduced me to so many grey areas, opened my eyes to so many new experiences that I had no idea existed. In a normal marriage there can be infidelity for various reasons, it is never right but shit happens, lets face it. A person can not say “they would never do it” if they haven’t walked in the other person’s shoes. I don’t think I ever would have an affair because I just can’t lie, it would be written all over my face, I would have to spill my guts. Whenever I had the feeling I was tempted to cheat I ended the relationship because to me, if I was looking elsewhere I was not in love with my partner any more. Things had to be pretty bad for a long time before I looked elsewhere. I had to have tried everything I could to save the relationship before I gave up on it. To me if the guy screwed around it meant he didn’t love me and didn’t want to be with me, because if he did he would not take the chance of losing me by screwing around. That said, with my first marriage that was not the way it was and here is why.I fell in love fast and furious with my first husband, or we fell in love quickly. I was young, barely 23 when I met him and 6 weeks later I moved to the other side of the country to be with him. I was daring, always have been the type of person to jump in with both feet and not even test the waters. I have always thought “Nothing is engraved in stone, if it doesn’t work out, you change your mind, at least you never regret not doing it, wondering what if.” I was working as a bank teller near the army base in Chilliwack and he was a French Canadian soldier who spoke broken English and chatted me up every time he was in the bank. He was a cutie pie, beautiful blue eyes, that changed color with his moods and twinkled when he was happy (Kris has eyes like his father) and a devilish grin. He was nothing like any of the men I had dated before. He had a broken nose, tattoos every where, was a bar room brawler a sexy dancer, and as it turned out the most attentive lover I ever had before or since. My family loved him immediately and he loved them, V was full of love, he had the sweetest way about him, he was a combination of “never walk away from a fight” and “let me massage your feet” and “dirty dancing long before the movie came out”. (I was afraid to dance with him in my small hometown for fear my parents would hear about it but once we were back east I let my hair down) I fell in love with him every time we danced. When we met, I was fresh (like one week) out of a 2 year dating relationship, and two weeks later he was transferred to Borden Ontario, he said, “If I thought you would come with me, I would ask you.” I said, “If you asked I might come.” So I applied for a transfer through the bank and went on two weeks vacation with him driving across Canada. I got back from my vacation and walked into the branch Monday morning to be told I started the next Monday in Borden. OMG!! I called V and asked if he still wanted me to come and he said yes and hopped on a plane to come help me sell all my furniture, load up my Honda Civic and drive across Canada for the second time in 3 weeks. So I sold every thing I owned and moved across the country with a man I had known not even 2 months. I was such a princess LOL. James always said I was too demanding, had high expectations, and I was so far from demanding. With V I admit I was demanding! I had my boundaries and I stuck to them (within reason) but then V was not a narcissist. I worked full-time and I did not cook on Fridays, I didn’t care what we ate but it was up to him to supply supper. We went out for expensive fine dining A LOT!, I had expensive clothes. I had expectations of flowers, jewelry, and cards, for special occasions and God help him if he forgot our anniversary! But he never did, I was spoiled by V compared to how James treated me. But then nothing about being with a narcissist is anything you can call “normal”, there was no such thing as getting angry and him doing what you asked. I knew and know of couples where, if they are entertaining the woman will tell the husband she needs him to help her get ready and he will stay home and help. He may bitch to his buddies about having to get home to help the “ball and chain” but he gets home because life won’t be worth living if he doesn’t. With an N, telling him you need his help results in him not even being there, not before, not during and not after and not answering his phone either. V and I argued a fair amount because he was a free spirit and I was regimented and a perfectionist. I never wanted to go for a picnic because there was house work to do. I was a pain in the ass I admit it. I also had a lot of hang ups from my childhood. ( I took extensive counseling after we split to deal with my baggage because I knew I had some major issues, anorexic was one, obsessive cleaning another are just two) We had our own friends and would go out separately sometimes, I had “lounge type friends”, business people, lawyers, accountants, bankers, and he had “bar room brawling buddies”. Our parties were always very interesting rotflmao V was a ladies man also, he loved women, and he had a hard time turning them down and believe me the women threw themselves at him, he was such a sexy dancer and really sweet. He would go out with his buddies and come home late, I would be laying in bed not able to sleep but would pretend I was asleep when he got home because I knew he would have picked someone up at the bar. (this was pre AIDs) I remember once him standing at the door to the bedroom and saying, “I really do love you.” and he went and slept on the couch. I could not handle him screwing around and he could not stop. He told me once that he didn’t know why, but he was afraid that he might miss the best piece of tail he ever had if he passed up a woman. It is the strangest situation because I knew he loved me. He never made me feel inferior, he never blamed me, he always told me how beautiful I was and how much he loved my body. We had great sex, he just could not be faithful. There was a lot more to it that I won’t go into here because I have written posts about it a couple of years ago. Here and Here and here and here I was heart-broken when we split and we carried a torch for each other for years. He asked me to try again about 3 years after we split. He brought over a Phil Collins tape and put it on Rain Down On Me started to play and we waltzed in the kitchen, both crying. He held me for a long time when the song ended, finally I looked him in the eye and asked,”Can you promise to be faithful.” and he said, “No.” We tried again after my 2nd marriage broke up and he had quit drinking (on my birthday), we dated a bit but there was so much water under the bridge and it just didn’t work out. But I never hated him and he never hated me, I never once felt less a woman, or less attractive, or less anything. I listened to that song just now and cried not because I am sorry we split but because it was a tender moment where we were both vulnerable. We had fights, he wasn’t a good dad to Kris when Kris was little, but even when we fought neither one of us attacked the other verbally or otherwise; we were respectful, – frustrated, angry. hurt … yes.. but never hate filled, vindictive, or destructive. We both cried, were in pain, took time to heal, neither one of us took pleasure in the other’s pain. We talked about each other and blamed each other, like divorcing couples will do and probably a lot of what we complained about was very valid. He remained close to my family, we were able to attend school functions, we could talk about our child, I never spoke poorly of Kris’s father to him. But never ever did either of us plot to destroy the other one or completely blame the other for our mistakes.
That is what is so painful and devastating about breaking up with the narcissist. When it ends there is no remembrance of the love shared, he instantly hates you and loves someone else. You are expected to carry all the fault for the relationship failing. His hatred for you is palatable. I have always stayed friends with my ex’s and expected the same with James. How can two people who had such a connection, such passion just stop? I thought we would break up, slowly extract ourselves from each other, the phone calls would get less and eventually we would both start dating again (deep down I thought we would somehow get back together like we always did). I never expected the hatred, the wanting to destroy me, the venomous bile that would spew from his mouth, the total disregard for anything good I ever did or denial of any love ever. Until James I thought I had hurt as badly as a person could hurt but I now know there is a level of pain that transcends any earthly normal pain. You would think after all he has done to me I would be able to hate him with the same hatred as he has shown me but you know? I don’t have it in me, I am not capable of that kind of hatred, that blackness, it makes me afraid to know there are people out there who can hate like that, it makes me believe there is a devil. It is amazing to me that a man can cheat on a woman and not make her feel she is less a woman; I find it even more difficult to believe a man can cheat, lie, abuse and then blame for her own pain. That is the difference between a broken heart and soul crushing.