The Meaninglessness of Affairs

[He] didn't want in so much as allow himself to respond to her. He suddenly sees this clearly. It startles him. God. So even in this, he hasn't been an adventurer, a seeker, so much as a schlump. No, a schlemiel. He slowly shakes his head. He made nothing happen.
It happened to him. Because he let it.
~From Monogamy by Sue Miller

These are the words of Graham, the cheating husband in Sue Miller's most recent novel. Graham loves his wife Annie. He's not remotely interested in leaving his marriage. In fact, he considers his marriage a quite happy one. 
But he's a pleaser. Of himself. Of others. He wants everybody to be happy. And so, when a female acquaintance makes her interest known to him, he goes along with it. He figures there's no harm in it. A little fun on the side. But even when it stops being "fun", he continues. Because it's easier. There's no conflict in just carrying on.
I hear similar stories so often on this site. Cheating husbands who express relief at getting caught. Cheaters who got caught up in the affair and then, when they decide they want out, realize that a spurned affair partner is a dangerous one. That the OW could blow everything up. Suddenly, the stakes are clear.
I don't have a whole lot of (any?) sympathy for these guys. Their inability to think even two steps ahead is a huge liability but it's their wives who bear the heaviest cost for their idiocy. 

I post this passage from Sue Miller's book because I think a whole lot of us who haven't cheated fundamentally misunderstand affairs. We subscribe to the Hollywood version – the steaminess, the desire. But, like all things Hollywood, the reality is far less interesting. The truth is that those who cheat are looking for something rather than someone. They are seeking validation. Evidence that they are interesting, sexy, appealing. It isn't the person they are attracted to as much as what the affair makes them feel. Until, of course, the affair stops making them feel good and starts making them feel trapped. Which, from the anecdotal evidence I get handed here, happens a whole lot.

So where does that leave us? We can be clear-eyed about affairs even if the cheater in our lives is still living in his fantasy. 

We can fight hard against the urge to compare ourselves with the Other Woman. After all, what she has nothing we want. 

We can remember that affairs, like the one our heroine Annie's husband gets involved in are as much about laziness as desire. About carelessness more than adventure. Graham realizes that he's, as he puts it, a schlump. A loser. And imagine discovering that you've jeopardized everything that matters to you for something that matters not at all.

Not that we need to be sympathetic. We don't. But, for all the pain my husband's infidelity caused me, I maintain that I'd still rather be me – devastated me – than him.