Dear Bel
I have been married to my third husband for 28 years. I’m 14 years older, but younger at heart and outgoing — whereas he’s an introvert, unless out with his cycling mates.
He’s never been the most emotional person and never tells me he loves me. However, over the past couple of years he’s become even less tactile. We don’t sleep in the same room as we both snore and he’s restless, so the sleeping arrangement suits us.
He’s suffered from depression in the past and the cycling helps keep this at bay. I retired in November 2020, but after working a lot in the home and garden, I became bored. So I’ve just taken on a three-month full-time position, to keep my brain stimulated.
We rarely have sexual intercourse these days — only if I go into his bedroom and initiate it. When I tried to discuss this to find out if there was a problem, he told me he just doesn’t get in the mood any more. How would he know if he isn’t prepared to try?
He takes medication for thyroid, and I know that may affect his libido — but it’s currently non-existent. He is very good with DIY, electric and plumbing but can’t cook. He has been doing the housework while I’m working, but I had to write him a list to follow.
He has always bought me special gifts on my birthday, Christmas and Valentine’s Day. Today he popped into town and when he came back, he announced out of the blue that he will not be buying me a Valentine gift any more — so don’t get him anything!
I am devastated. To me, that’s driven one more nail into what I feel is a loveless marriage on his part. For as long as we’ve been together, I have always cooked us a three-course candlelit dinner and two weeks ago I ran the menu I’d devised by him, and he said it sounded good.
So, after he’d told me about the Valentine present I asked about the special meal. He said tough, not happening.
This latest stab in the back leaves me at a loss, but I can’t leave him as I have barely any savings and could not afford rent. Any advice would be welcome.
MARJORIE
This week Bel advises a woman who fears her husband’s announcement he will not be buying her a Valentine’s Day gift means the end of their marriage
Asked questions about this column, I’ve often mentioned that every single week it could be filled with stories of bad and sad marriages. But variety is essential, so I avoid that unfortunate monotony — even though I know thousands feel stuck in marriages which feel as if they have run their course, even without the shock of infidelity.
I happen to believe in marriage as part of the bedrock of a stable society; at the same time, some couples would be much happier were they to separate and begin new lives.
You seem to have put your husband in the dock for a variety of reasons, some of which seem less than heinous to this outsider — also married to a man who takes care of ‘DIY, electric and plumbing’ but is not given to emotional outpourings of love talk.
Since I trust actions not words and prefer peaceful companionship to passion, I’m quite contented — especially since I know the world is full of liars, cheats and swindlers with caressing hands and fine words.
After 28 years (or less), many people become less interested in sex; the real problem comes when one of them resents the situation and feels rejected.
But it may not herald the end of a marriage. This is something you could talk to a counsellor about, first of all on your own (relate.org).
But it’s important to be aware that a man may have complicated feelings about his potency — anxieties which can be made worse by a woman who makes demands and resents them not being fulfilled.
But let us return to what seems to be the main impulse behind this letter — that ‘stab in the back’ over the troublesome Feast of St Valentine. Did you ask him why, after all these years, he wants to stop exchanging Valentine gifts? Is he feeling skint? Did he walk around town, find nothing suitable, become irritable because he felt inadequate?
My instincts tell me there are important conversations you two are not having — and I don’t mean the one about sex. If you clam up because of your hurt feelings the situation can only get worse.
Did he really say ‘tough, not happening’ (which you didn’t put in quotation marks) — or is that your interpretation of a silent shrug? Why are you discussing this meal at all, when you’d already decided on the menu?
In your position I would tell him cheerfully not to worry — that you’ve already bought him a little something, and are looking forward to cooking dinner, so he’d better be there! Be calm and casual, not angry and offended. Or you could tell him that you understand he fancies not doing the usual, so thought you might book somewhere to go out for dinner, but everywhere is booked up or too expensive — so better to stay in.
Cook your meal, light the candles and try to be more relaxed. Perhaps just now you think you’ve had enough of this third marriage — but do you really want to be alone?
I feel abandoned after 11-year affair
Dear Bel
I am now 77 but have always looked much younger. For 11 wonderful years I had an affair with my then boss. I was separated and he was living with his wife in a loveless marriage. I loved him very much, and this was reciprocated. He was 24 years younger than me and made me feel so good — with great sex.
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It all changed 18 months ago when I had to have major surgery for a rare form of cancer which resulted in me having to have an ileostomy bag. Due to this, I had to retire, and in May last year it was decided that I should move some miles away to live nearer family.
My ex-boss and I have kept in touch as friends, and all was fine until he told me that 16 months ago he had separated from his wife and is now seeing someone else.
Although I knew he would move on, this news has upset me. All I can think about is that this lady has what I once had — which I now cannot have, yet still want. How can I get these thoughts out of my mind and move on?
It does not help that I am not happy where I am now living. Life is not proving to be what I thought it was going to be. I hope you can give me some advice as it is really affecting my happiness quite badly.
CHRISTINE
My favourite poet (and Ireland’s greatest) W.B. Yeats, once wrote: ‘In dreams begins responsibility.’ So what did he mean?
You can interpret the phrase in more than one way, of course, but I want to suggest one for you, at this difficult stage in your life.
People say you have to focus and work hard to achieve your dream — there’s even some current gobbledegook about ‘ordering’ your heartfelt desires from the universe, and then they will come true.
I’m very sceptical about all that, just as I am rather sceptical about the love you believe your former boss felt for you.
I imagine that throughout the 11-year affair, you dreamed he would leave his wife and make a life with you.
When the affair began, he was 40, you were 64, and he assured you his marriage was ‘loveless’ — a proven way to get a woman into bed. You were on the spot, desiring him and ready to make passionate love whenever it was convenient. I imagine you were happy some of the time, but miserable with longing when you couldn’t see him.
Eighteen months ago, you had a serious operation which has left you with an ileostomy bag. I know exactly what that means, because someone I love had one. It’s a life-changer that can be tough to come to terms with — especially if sexuality has been very important to you.
In addition, you made a sensible move which has left you discontented, because you haven’t yet settled. Then you hear that your ex-boss-lover is free and with someone new, not you. So the impossible dream you cherished has finally gone kaput — a miserable outcome, especially on top of the realisation that he actually chose to keep the truth hidden from you. Not so much real friendship there.
I believe your responsibility now is to yourself — to understand the truth about your lost dream, even if the honesty hurts you.
Your married lover was never going to move in with you. At 53, he is still relatively young and the inevitability of his new life makes you desperately sad. But you have no choice but to come to terms with it, as you’ve had to come to terms with your changed body. That’s how it is, Christine — and you need to build on the new reality.
The important question is what are you going to do with the life you have left? Did you survive the cancer that might have killed you in order to mope over the fantasy of a man who might never have been able to cope with the reality of an ileostomy bag?
You only decided to move eight months ago, so can’t have given your new home and surroundings any chance at all. Enough of the tired old dream. Face the present and make it as good as it can possibly be. You have only one life, remember.
And finally… Sometimes all we need is tough love
This time 12 years ago we’d endured three weeks in our farmhouse — and I was beyond gloomy. The place was freezing and needed so much work; the ancient Aga conked out; the central heating was rubbish; I had no bookcases or wardrobes; my prudent husband vetoed lovely antique kitchen tables; all the colours chosen by the previous owners for floors and walls depressed me.
Surrounded by boxes and stuffed bin bags I felt myself freefalling into a black hole.
One morning I sat up in the chaotic spare room (our own room and bathroom under construction), struck my own forehead and wailed, ‘We’ve made a terrible mistake.’
Perched on the bed, the long-suffering spouse gave the faintest of shrugs and said, ‘Too late.’ That was it. So hard and matter-of-fact.
No therapy-speak. No sympathetic soft-soaping. No gentle strokes for my head or bat squeaks of optimism.
It was indeed too late — my previous, perfect, comfortable house had new owners and now here we were. We just had to buckle down and get on with it.
This week, when I reminded him of that unforgettable morning, he just laughed. But I spotted an eye roll too, as he momentarily re-lived the awfulness of the house and the perpetually whinging wife.
At the time he dished out the kind of ‘tough love’ I sometimes reckon people need when they write to this column. Of course I didn’t like it at the time. I went on crying, but nevertheless hauled myself out of bed, got dressed and accompanied him to B&Q to get what we needed.
How patient he was when he almost certainly wanted me a million miles away.
I sometimes notice the schmaltzy slogan ‘Be Kind’ on sweatshirts, fridge magnets or Tube stations. But what does it mean? Yes, kindness is beautiful but as my wise husband knew, it can sometimes be necessary to echo Shakespeare’s Hamlet: ‘I must be cruel only to be kind.’
Source: Daily Mail
