Why must the wife be the last to know?

Some rational friends may have tried to caution erring husbands not to lose their compass over women who have nothing to lose and everything to gain — money, jewelry, the pampered life, houses, condo units, travel, clothes, luxury beyond imagination.

The wine was flowing like there was no tomorrow. One nonagenarian pulled me and whispered, “See these couples seated with us? Which ones are still having a good roll in the hay? Couple 1 has definitely been put out to pasture; couple 2 may boldly attempt but fail miserably; couple 3 may still spoon because he mistakes his wife for a pillow; couple 4 exchange grumpy nods in their bedroom and crack, ‘That’s a wrap folks.’ The classic lover’s vow, ‘I want to grow old with you,’ is now fading like your stone-washed denim jeans and many stay together out of the inescapable need to keep a companion who has not dropped dead, yet.”

“But isn’t this one of life’s blessings?”  I asked.  Although the body has withered, love is still there, in place of the once consuming passion.  “Yes,” she snapped. “That’s total commitment. Anyone can accept the certainty of losing beauty, vigor and the once razor-sharp faculties but not the loss of trust, respect and love in a marriage.”

A friend uncovered her husband’s infidelity who was keeping a mistress old enough to be their granddaughter.  “I heard an annoying beep coming from my husband’s  laptop.  I thought it was an emergency so I clicked a button. He had absentmindedly left the computer logged on to Skype.  Normally, I would have ignored it but this time, I heard a warning voice that urged me to check the monitor again.  I saw a conversation thread that nearly stopped my heart.” 

Francisco:  Darling, what are you doing?  Do you miss me?

Frangipani:  Anna is in school, she’s growing too fast, boo hoo  :-( 

Francisco:  Is she using the IPad?

Frangipani:  Like how, my love.

Francisco:  Download more games, charge to me. 

Frangipani:  Okay, the driver you hired reported today with two yayas.  Finally!  

More damning lines followed:

Francisco:  Where have you been?  Didn’t I tell you to check your laptop every day?  You are only nice and attentive when I give you money!  Damn.

Frangipani:  I don’t like it when you scream at me.  Even if you are superior and moneyed, I want some respect; Hell, I’m the mother of your child!

 “Why am I the last to know?” my friend cried.

Like most women, she takes her marriage vows seriously and banks on the integrity of her husband to fulfill his side of their covenant.  “When you are guided by faith and trust, you don’t see anything else,” she said.  She takes every word he utters at face value and never puts any meaning to some words dropped in haste or with sarcasm.  She doesn’t notice any change in behavior either because her trust is absolute, her vow so sacred that no one can cast a shadow on his moral uprightness.      

A couple explored the world when they were young, gutsy and spirited.  They rode his Harley Davidson around Tahiti, French Polynesia and other exotic locations.  He kept his hair long, sported a thick moustache and wore a printed scarf on his neck while she had long shiny hair, a tattoo on her wrist and flowers in her hair.  They belonged to the beatnik generation and the hippie, flower power movement of the 1970s.  In two decades, his career reached the summit of fame and fortune as he climbed the corporate ladder to become the chairman of the board.  “We went through the hungry years, Letty, and loved every minute of it. Our life had finally harvested the fruits when we didn’t have a dime but each other.”

I thought that was amazing and looked up to them as a model couple.

When I greeted her on their wedding anniversary, she graciously replied, “I like that Letty, thank you.  We had a good run, didn’t we?  Andrew asked me for a divorce. I don’t know whether his sexual shenanigans had caught up with him because he got a promo girl pregnant.”

 These men wallow in bog and deceit because they surround themselves with toady people who dance to the same tune or are sycophants too scared to lose their jobs and cross the philandering boss.  They act as the conduit, the alibi, the lookout, if not the perpetrator or worse, the pimp. They say that the old boys network is put to the test when dalliances occur.  Are you with him or not? 

Some rational friends may have tried to caution these erring husbands not to lose their compass and their good names over women who have nothing to lose and everything to gain:  money, jewelry, the pampered life, houses, condo units, travel, clothes, luxury beyond imagination. 

If you have witnessed your friend’s husband embroiled in a dangerous liaison, should you alert your friend? Are you sparing her from knowing the truth because you don’t want to get involved?  Isn’t it a sign of your love and friendship to inform her before she collapses in a heap and the rest of the world snicker and gossip?

Break the smoke and mirrors, end this sham and help her believe in herself again.  She is no trash and should not be treated as one.  Help her find the courage to face this ordeal.  If only she was told beforehand, maybe she would have had the time to gather her wits, weigh her options, build up her guts and lift her floundering spirit.

Hold her hand and pray with her.  This tempest can be crushed.  Your friend can emerge stronger, proof that she’s nobody’s fool even if she loved not too wisely but too well.