When Partners Cheat

I spent Saturday evening with what I have come to call "the usual suspects," my tiny and tight group friends: K and A; J and M; and occasionally Big A, who is all over the place busy with environmental and Eco tourism concerns.  This is a group I simply cannot live without--a network of true and comfortable friendships.  

Over drinks and A's wonderful, home-whipped spaghetti with white truffle sauce, the conversation ventured toward the delicate topic of infidelity.  As expected, the repartee instantly became animated as valid points were raised and argued.  It was an interesting and may I say, healthy exchange between middle-aged men and women who have seen the good, the bad, and the ugly sides of pedestrian life and who have now made peace with being halfway done with this business called living.

The scratched and worn adage of "One must cut clean from any relationship before picking up with someone else," came up.  But we don't really believe this, do we?  Often, the spare is already waiting in the wings before a discontent party completely disengages from his original relationship.  Why?  Because it makes the shift much easier, because it serves as the coup de grace, which finally gives one the balls to up and leave.  We are all aware of how improbable it is to uproot oneself from one's comfort zone without a similar replacement in which to take shelter.  We all condemn those who do it this way--slingshot between relationships, but in reality, it is the path most travelled.

The big question we posed to each other was, "How can one tell if his partner is cheating?"  I ventured to say that it really isn't one definitive thing; it normally is a string of event-incidents-changes that gives away the erring party.  I speak here of men and women and it could be a sudden focus on prettifying the self (new hairdo, wardrobe, escalating dermatologists bills etc.); the over-solicitousness toward the present partner brought on by guilt--sort of an overcompensation for the crime in progress; a marked change in schedule--a manic pace of once nonexistent appointments; generally stealthy and secretive comings and goings; deliberate provocation of the partner to start fights in order to justify a walking out or a getaway for a tryst with the paramour--stuff like that.  But hey, what do I know? 

In summary, the exchanges were mostly funny, at times absurd.  It was a great way to entertain ourselves--us oftentimes jaded mid lifers who navigate through life in the best way we know, oftentimes clumsily.  The evening was testament to the quality of friendship that has taken on a life of its own through the decades--an intimate and fearless exchange of our deepest, darkest thoughts tempered by lots of affection and genuine concern for each other.

On the drive home, in between lucidity and liquor-induced mini comas, a scary thought knocked on my brain: what if it happens to one of us?  It sobered me up.