A hard equation to resolve: Simran Mangharam on infidelity

Even in a world of just Adam and Eve, temptation loomed and a dream ended.

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Despite the massive fallout, though, they stayed together. There are many blows a strong relationship can take: crime and punishment, financial turmoil, evolving personalities, the loss of loved ones. Infidelity is different. It occurs, almost universally, in a weakening bond. It shatters one of the core commitments of that bond. It feels catastrophic because it is every quake that has been brewing, hitting all at once.

Sadly, infidelity is timeless and widespread. It is as old and prevalent as monogamy itself. In my years as a relationship coach, I have encountered many clients in one corner or another of these triangles. And I have found that cases typically fall into one of three categories: those where nothing changes; those where everything changes (amid immense pain but also hope); and those where the affair turn out to be terminal for the relationship.

Let’s start with the first. A 37-year-old client of mine, let’s call her Tina, has been in a loveless marriage for 10 years. There is no romance or intimacy between her and her husband; they co-exist as roommates, and have not had sex for three years.

A year ago, Tina began flirting, via text, with a man she met at a social event. The flirtation turned into an affair. Eleven months later, she ended the affair. I have been helping her heal from her grief over the loss of this relationship.

Tina cannot explain exactly why she chose to stay in her marriage. Perhaps it is familiarity; perhaps it is because her husband is not a bad person. Since she remains committed to this bond, she knew she had to end the affair. But she is determined to return to her marriage as she left it, without attempts at communication and resolution. She is heartbroken, and he sees that something is wrong, but they haven’t talked about what it might be. They seem determined to settle into old patterns.

In the second scenario, the love is intact and the pain can feel greater, but there is hope. A few months ago, I began coaching a client who approached me after his wife confessed to an affair. He started out by saying that he understood the part he had played. He had arrived at these conclusions in therapy. For five years, for instance, he was barely home, and was focused on work even when he was. As his career grew, he allowed his wife to feel smaller and less significant. He now wants help rebuilding their bond, from its current eroded state.

From “seeing” and “listening” to his wife to sharing experiences that they both enjoy outside of their home, we are working to make sure his wife feels seen, heard and wanted.

In the third scenario, a 40-year-old client of mine is getting back into the world of dating. Her marriage ended when she discovered by accident, while working on a shared computer, that her husband was cheating on her. She was completely blindsided, she says. And she knew as she read his texts, sent from a secret account, that there was no way forward for them.

Whatever the circumstances and fallout, I tend to agree with psychotherapist Esther Perel, who says that there are lessons to learn from any incident of infidelity in one’s life. I recommend the help of a counsellor, therapist or coach, because this is a gruelling journey. It “requires a willingness to descend into a labyrinth of irrational forces,” as Perel puts it in her book, The State of Affairs (2017). “Love is messy; infidelity more so. But it is also a window, like none other, into the crevices of the human heart.” Not just the heart of the person who cheated, but of the person left asking: how could this happen to me. It is vital to answer that question, not with any sense of self-blame, but with the goal of never having to ask it again.

(Simran Mangharam is a dating and relationship coach and can be reached on [email protected])