Wednesday, May 14, 2025

Years too late … an article about infidelity

A few days ago, I stumbled across an online article from Psychology Today (March 11, 2025) that would have been really useful if I had discovered it twenty or forty years ago. (Oops, bad news, it hadn't been written yet.) The title is "3 Traits That Can Make a Partner More Likely to Cheat," and yes, I have added it to my list of articles posted at the bottom of this page on the left. The short version is that it might have helped me decode Wife's infidelities a lot earlier, though some of what it says finally (belatedly) occurred to me too.

The three traits are these:

  1. Narcissistic tendencies
  2. Low self-esteem
  3. Fear of vulnerability and emotional intimacy

I'll summarize how each of these is supposed to work.

Narcissistic tendencies

No surprise here. The article argues that narcissists use sex to bolster their own self-image, because they need constant validation and praise. So if the spouse falls down on the job—or gets tired, or mad, or bored, or boring—the narcissist seeks sexual validation elsewhere.

When I first married Wife, I didn't even know the word narcissism! The first time I heard about it as a psychiatric disorder was during this conversation with D. Even after that it took me a couple of years before I really understood it.

Does this explanation fit Wife? I think so. Whenever she started a new affair it always made her bubbly with New Relationship Energy, and confident enough to take on the world. I certainly saw that in her relationship with the Church Tenor, for instance. (See, for example, here or here.) Given how low she always crashed later, those highs must have been intoxicating.

Low self-esteem

Of course this explanation is the flip side of the earlier one. Desperately low self-esteem prods the sufferer to do anything to get external validation. I talked about this connection early on, in this post.

The article goes on to say that when one partner commits infidelity, that damages the relationship, which in turn gives the adulterer more to feel bad about (and even lower self-esteem). Interestingly, I caught that feature as well, in this post here

Fear of vulnerability and emotional intimacy

The third trait follows a slightly different tack:

For some, cheating is a way to avoid emotional closeness. They fear being vulnerable and may sabotage their own relationships by seeking external connections that require little emotional intimacy....

When they cheat, they often form external connections that demand little to no emotional investment. These brief encounters provide a temporary sense of control or detachment, allowing them to maintain a surface-level connection while avoiding the deeper emotional work required for a healthy, intimate partnership.

It took me a while to understand Wife's fear of vulnerability. I think the most extensive post I've written on it may be this one, which came some five years after the others that I've quoted. But there were certainly signs there earlier. Her willingness to be involved in the torrid BDSM fantasies of Boyfriend 5 was probably one of those signs. Or in any event I remember reading later the assertion that BDSM appeals precisely to people who are afraid of emotional intimacy, because it provides such a rigid framework for behavior that they never have to worry about not knowing where the boundaries are. And Wife regularly panicked over not knowing where the boundaries were.


I said that this article came along years too late. In some senses, I no longer need it because I ended up discovering all these same conclusions myself. But if I had had it available years ago, think how much time it might have saved me!        

           

Tuesday, May 13, 2025

People are funny

As I left my UU Sangha this evening, I waved to one of the women there and said, "See you next week."

She replied "Inshallah." (One look at her will tell you without doubt that her ancestors must have been English and Scandinavian.)

Then she caught up with me and explained. She has an Iranian neighbor, you see, and so she and her neighbor got in the habit of saying "Inshallah" to each other years ago. Today it's something they find totally natural.

Only she realizes that nowadays, with all the political turmoil in the Middle East, some people get very sensitive about using any conventional phrases from Arabic. So now she feels like she has to watch herself, to avoid saying something that will bother people.

I suggested that she could always just translate it to English as "God willing."

But no, she balked at that. I think it's because she's a Unitarian, and so feels squeamish talking about God.

Even though she clearly has no problem saying "Inshallah," … which is an abbreviation of "in shāʾ Allāh" … which literally means "if God wills" or "God willing."

So why is she willing to talk to God in Arabic, but not in English? (Note that she doesn't speak Arabic or Farsi, or not more than her neighbor taught her.) I think it is for the same reason that profanity never sounds as bad in a foreign language. I have known Germans who are perfectly willing to exclaim "Shit!" but who are far too inhibited to yell "Scheiße!" just as loud. And I've known Americans who feel the same way but in reverse. It's probably the same thing going on here.

People are funny.  

Wednesday, May 7, 2025

Thoughts on prayer

One evening while I was sitting with Ma Schmidt—I had almost a week to go before coming home, and it was maybe eight or nine days before she died—I suddenly had an idea. She had been moaning "Help me" over and over, even as she was totally unable to answer the question, "Help you do what?"

And suddenly I wondered, Is that how God (or the gods) experience human prayer? Everybody knows that the great majority of prayers seem to go unanswered. Could it be that the problem is on our end, not God's? To flesh this out a bit: Maybe it's the case that there is a limited range of things that God can do for us, but "Make It All Better" isn't one of them. Or, well, it might be one of them if we could specify exactly what we mean. But maybe (for whatever reason) we can't ask God to figure it out for us. Maybe He's willing to help if only we can spell out what we want, but remaking the Universe from scratch so that I personally am never unhappy, … well that just isn't on the menu. (And after all, what I want out of the Universe is probably different from what you want.) So the end result, so far as we can perceive, is that our prayers go unanswered. And we blame it on God. Ma Schmidt probably blamed it on us that her pleas for help fell (to all appearances) on deaf ears.

Another song for the road

A few days ago I brought the story of Ma Schmidt up to the point where she died. I don't remember quite when I wrote that part. It must have been less than a week, because I posted this one six days ago, and that was before I wrote the last few about her.

I keep thinking I "should" write some of the other posts I've been thinking about from that time, and maybe I will. I'll start with this one because it's easy.

You remember back in March I wrote about why I find country music good to listen to for long road trips. So I scanned for Country stations on the road up to see the Schmidts again, and on the road home. Most of the songs I heard were songs I had heard before—good enough to keep me awake, but nothing I felt I had to remember for later. Or they were songs that I hadn't heard before, and that I forgot again right away.

But there was one that caught my attention. I'm not sure if it hooked any of my special topics, or if it's just that the tune is compelling and the beat is relentless. But it's all of that, for sure. Apparently it's also famous, so maybe you've already heard of it. The song is "Austin," by Dasha.


P.S.: I just realized that Dasha defines her style as #cuntry, and yes it is spelled like that. I don't know what to make of that, but here's an article about it.   

Thursday, May 1, 2025

In case you are tracking my posts, there are new ones about Ma Schmidt

This is just a placeholder here in May—today's actual date—that I'll be adding more posts back in April to continue the story of Ma Schmidt. So if you are following that story, you'll want to back up a bit to find the latest updates. 

Sunday, April 27, 2025

Hymn to Hekate

There is no Homeric Hymn to Hekate, or none extant. There is an Orphic Hymn to her, and Hesiod praises her extensively in the Theogony. But when I was sitting for days on end with Ma Schmidt as she drifted towards death, I found myself musing. Hekate, like Hermes, is a psychopomp—a guide of souls of the newly-dead. who steers them from their bodies (recently abandoned in the world of the living) towards their new home in the Land of the Dead. And wouldn't it be nice if She could arrange that Ma Schmidt die without pain or fear? Of course I mean "die at the right time"—I had no desire to murder her! But if she could avoid the pain and fear, wouldn't that be nice?

In the end it didn't work out that way, or not obviously. But even after returning home I found myself wondering if I could write a hymn to Hekate like the ones I have written to some of the other gods. I've mulled it in fits and starts since then, and tonight—nine days after driving home—I think I have four verses of rhyming dactylic tetrameter. So maybe this will work.

Shining Hekate, beloved of Persephone,
Lady of crossroads and Mistress of night,
Your silver hand draws down the moon from the stars for
Thessalian witches intent on their rites.

Torch-bearing Maiden, a spark in the darkness, 
The mistress of magic, Protector of dogs,
You pass through the skies and the earth and the ocean,
And then disappear in the night and the fog.

Friend of the husbandman, laboring farmer,
You dole out success to whomever you choose.
Honor and profit and victory in warfare—
You pick who's rewarded and who is to lose.

Nurse of the newborns just op'ning their eyelids,
And guide of the dying, who close them again,
Help me prevail in my contests while living,
And shelter my soul when I come to you then.


     

Tuesday, April 22, 2025

Ma Schmidt, requiescat in pace

Then early Tuesday morning, Schmidt followed up with this email, addressed to Marie, to me, and to his mom's old friend, Georgie. The header read, "It's Over." 

Writing in the small hours of April 22...

If I were to go into the guts of my email program I might be able to figure out how to format it to put a black border around my text in accordance with Victorian fashion but I don't feel like taking the time for that.  Mom died about 8:45 in the evening.  It wasn't as peaceful as one would have liked.  I was out much of the afternoon.  She wasn't going anywhere at that point and I had a major problem to deal with: the enormous dead digger pine along the driveway fell (during the previous night I suppose) -- right across the driveway, completely blocking it.  Thank good fortune I was able to get hold of neighbor Kurt, who has a really big chainsaw -- and the mass to be able to handle it!  He helped me clear the driveway, which I knew I'd be needing imminently.  Anyway, while I was in and out, I wasn't monitoring Mom closely. Then there were the usual chores and then dinner time came along.  As I started cooking, I checked on her and found she'd suddenly been sick -- yellow bile all down her front and on the bed.  Ugh!  [Good for putting me off dinner!] I got on the phone to hospice [I must note here that the local hospice entity is clearly a very small organization.  I've met nurses S— (who was on call tonight) and T—, and social worker J— and that may well be the entire field team] and got some advice and instruction on (we hoped) relieving her nausea.  Going over to the bed to follow nurse S—'s advice I discovered Mom had stopped breathing.  So I had to call her back and tell her that our plans had changed... She's been and gone (and it's a good hour's drive from her home to here), cleaned and dressed Mom, dealt with her meds, and called the funeral home.  It's now 1 AM and they have been and gone as well, taking Mom with them.  All pretty quiet and efficient, really. 

And now comes, I guess, the next, differently hard part: all the paperwork! 

Wonder if I'll get any sleep tonight? 

_____

I have a couple of other things to post—topics I thought about during the long hours—and I'll tag them on the end here pretty soon.