When it comes to the crunch, is he too Rich Tea?
My friend is leaving her husband because he’s a Rich Tea biscuit. This is what she told her therapist – and then me. ‘He is solid, dependable, reliable. You know what you are getting. But I want more.’
Like what? A deeper connection, passionate sex, someone who truly sees her, who excites her, who gets her, who appreciates her. Is that so very wrong?
A few decades ago, the answer from most would have almost certainly been yes. You aren’t being bullied or abused; you have a respectful, contributing spouse and a partnership that’s ‘fine’. Society would say: live with it, because not to would break your partner’s heart, destabilise and upset the children and send shockwaves through your family and friends.
OK, the relationship doesn’t make your private parts tingle or your heart soar but stay and you’ll be on the right side of God. You won’t be dealing with alternate Christmases without your kids or your finances smashed to pieces.
Plus, we all know couples who have persevered when one person is deeply dissatisfied (or distracted by another) and have gone on to lead a happy life full of gins and gardening with their offspring none the wiser.
The pressures that expose relationship weaknesses (demanding jobs, young kids) fade as the years go by and friction points become fewer. In the best-case scenario both people learn from this crisis point and become closer. Or – a less desirable outcome – they accept that being together, dissatisfied and in separate beds, is better than life apart, and the attendant ramifications.
For my friend this is a crossroads moment. Only she knows how unhappy she is – whether her marriage is liveable-with, or whether staying together will erode her soul and break her spirit.
Recently I interviewed Andrea McLean, the former Loose Women presenter, for my podcast and she told me about the judgment she felt when she left her first husband. She said of those who scorned her, ‘No matter how much you hate me, you don’t hate me as much as I hate me.’
To hear her tell her story it’s clear she had to leave. It was do or die. While she doesn’t go into graphic detail, her ex’s behaviour, I think we can assume, was less than exemplary, and she had become a shadow of herself. She said she’d spent years trying to please him, thinking, ‘If I dim my light enough, if
I stay quiet enough, if I don’t irritate him and I make sure I only do things he likes then he’ll like me.’ She was miserable.
I have other friends who have had no touch, no love for years; have felt taken for granted, doing all the domestic work for zero appreciation. Should they stay? I don’t think so. But I do think if there is someone else in the equation it muddies the water – it makes you the ‘baddie’ in other people’s eyes.
For someone who has been left, an affair adds a whole layer of hurt and complexity. But I do understand that for some people it can be the rowing boat out of a horrible situation.
That was Andrea’s experience: ‘People think I left him for someone else. I didn’t – we had got to such a terrible moment in our relationship [that when] someone showed me kindness I reached out and let myself feel better.
‘I am not a bitch. I am a lovely human being who was not in a great situation and did not have any of the tools to get out of it.’
I have many friends who have chosen to leave. Some have had affairs. I’ve learnt that it’s important not to judge – it’s never black and white. I also know it can be as painful to be the leaver as the left.
If you put the Rich Tea next to the forbidden chocolate Hobnob the temptation is often too strong to resist. I would just say consider your confection carefully – even a Hobnob fades in allure if you have it every day.
EVEN A HOBNOB FADES IN ALLURE IF YOU HAVE IT EVERY DAY