I can’t forgive my friend for putting her sex life ahead of her children’s needs

Ihave always thought of myself as empathetic, broad-minded, forgiving and able to appreciate all manner of situations from the different viewpoints of those embroiled in them. I prefer to offer a listening ear and advice – should it be requested – to friends in crisis rather than pouring scorn or judgment on dubious decisions they’ve made.

But one particular scenario has left me at odds with my ordinarily compassionate self. Privately at least, I am berating one of my closest friends who recently delivered the news that she has ended her marriage to pursue relationships with multiple men. Yet these two elements to her story are not the cause of my disdain. Far worse than the bed-hopping and seedy sex in swingers’ clubs is that my friend – let’s call her Sarah – has made the choice to also leave her three children, two of them still in primary school, in order to facilitate this new lifestyle.

She could hardly bring home her lovers while the kids are eating their tea, or sneak out to illicit clubs to meet them when the children are tucked up in bed, so Sarah has split from both her husband and the little people who rely on her and crave her love the most – and suddenly our 30-year friendship feels out of kilter.

As a mum myself, it would go against every maternal instinct in my body to walk away from my own children, and I cannot comprehend that she has done just this, however powerful the pull of her libido and desire for a new single life in middle age. Of course, the counter opinion that even the mildest of feminists would levy at me is why the hell should it be the woman who stays put with marital offspring when a marriage ends? Why should biology and society dictate that she should be the one saddled with the pressures and exhaustion inherent in parenthood while her ex-husband swaggers off into a life of relative freedom, bar regular meetups with his kids at the park or local pizzeria?

It’s an argument I don’t disagree with in principle. But in practice, no way.

By walking away from the marital home, Sarah has absolved herself of the humdrum and minutiae of life with young children. But all I can do is mourn on her behalf the consequent loss of those sticky after-school kisses, wriggly bedtime snuggles and endearing curiosity in the form of endless questions (“Why isn’t the moon purple?” “Why does Grandpa smell a bit?”) that she is now missing out on.

While she is swinging from the chandeliers with one or more men at a time, she would do well to remember that one day her children will be grunting teenagers who won’t want to hang out with her anyway: so why deny herself these precious moments while they are still young?

And what might her kids think of her should they ever discover the truth about their mother’s new life? All it would take is one child at school when they are older to get a whiff of the fact that she has amassed half a dozen or so lovers, each of them with a similar number of sexual partners, for rumours to swirl.

Still, despite my disapproval of Sarah’s break-up with her kids, I have, of course, offered my emotional support to her while also imploring her to please be protective of her health and her emotions as she embarks on this questionable (there I go again!) lifestyle. I fear for the guilt and regret that I sense she is keeping a lid on, but which will doubtless surface in the future.

Though she sees her children every day, it’s no substitute for living with them and although the reasons why she left her husband come as no surprise, I simply cannot condone her choice to split from her kids.

All I can do is mourn on her behalf the loss of those sticky after school kisses