Help! My Husband Skipped My Dad’s Funeral, So I Cheated on Him.
Dear Prudence is Slate’s advice column. Submit questions here.
Dear Prudence,
My husband Joe and I have been having problems in our marriage for a while, even though we’ve only been married for a few years. It came to a head when my Dad died and he wouldn’t come with me to the funeral… because his friend had a gig at a comedy festival that weekend. So I buried my Dad, got drunk in the family home alone (my mom and brother died in a car accident a few years ago so it’s just me left), and when one of the neighbors I grew up with came around to give his condolences … I cheated on Joe. I felt really bad about it once I sobered up, as it’s not something I’d ever expect of myself. I went home early, told Joe, and it’s been a lot ever since.
He wants to forgive me, but he gets angry and mistrustful a lot. There’s a lot of fighting. He doesn’t think he has anything to work on other than forgiving me. Any attempt to point out anything he has done that wasn’t great for our relationship is seen as an excuse. Maybe it is. We recently started therapy and our therapist said there would be a lot of anger, distrust, reassurances, and hard work for years to come. Is it really awful that I don’t want that? Maybe if we’d been great before, I could see it being worth it, but spending years grating myself raw against Joe’s anger just to climb back to the not that great relationship we had before seems masochistic. Worse, at least masochists get off.
I’m not enjoying this. I want to go home and move into my Dad’s old house instead of selling it. My job’s remote, so it wouldn’t be a problem. It just seems like Joe should get to be the one to dump me. Not the other way around. (And for the record, I’ve no desire to get back together with the guy I cheated with. I was not incapacitated, but I was pretty drunk and very sad and it seems gross for someone to leverage that into sex.)
—Isn’t It His Turn to Make the Call?
Dear His Turn,
It sounds like your drunken, grief-fueled night of infidelity was just a symptom of a larger issue, which is that you want out of this marriage. Very badly! Of course, the best, most responsible and least messy thing you could have done would have been to tell Joe that the problems you were having in your marriage were taking a serious toll, and that his refusal to attend your father’s funeral was a dealbreaker for you. I understand why you didn’t—you were burying your dad and had plenty of other things to think about, and maybe the extent to which you were checked out hadn’t really hit you yet. But it has now. And you have another opportunity to tell the truth, which is “I’m just not up for doing what it will take to repair this relationship.” Say it in the therapist’s office so you have a witness and Joe can’t convince himself you didn’t mean it. If you want to give him an opportunity to be the one to dump you, he can (and hopefully will) jump in there. But either way, not wanting to be married—or to deal with the current reality of your marriage—is reason enough to get divorced.
Dear Prudence,
Low stakes question: My husband and I have been together for over 45 years. We have different senses of humor; I’m more dry-witted and he’s more slapstick. Most of the time it works, but sometimes he says or does something that I don’t find at all funny. He’s waiting for my laugh and I sit in silence. He’s hurt/mad that I’m not amused, and I’m amazed he thinks what he said or did is even mildly funny. Do I need to laugh at everything he says? Is there a better way to handle this? After all this time, you’d think it wouldn’t cause problems but somehow this can turn into a huge argument.
—That’s Just Not Amusing
Dear Not Amusing,
Forty-five years is a long time! I’m going to assume that you’re writing in with this “low-stakes” question after having been married for so long means you don’t have higher stakes ones, such as “I find my husband deeply annoying” or “I love him but I don’t really like him at all” or “I have so much contempt for him because of the many ways in which he’s screwed up that I would never go out of my way to make him happy.” I’m also guessing there is some affection there, that you generally like who he is as a person, and that he does his part to make you feel good, and accommodate your quirks.
If I’m right, just give him a little something here. You don’t need to fake-laugh, but you could smile affectionately and say something that acknowledges that he is trying to make you laugh, without being dishonest. “You’re such a clown” or “Where would we be without your jokes?” or “Nice new bit” or “Thanks for lightening the mood.” I don’t think he needs to believe you think he’s hilarious all the time, but letting him know that you appreciate what he’s doing and appreciate him more generally (again, I hope that’s true!) will go a long way and shouldn’t take too much out of you.
“Not to throw out a baseless allegation of infidelity but is she … laughing at someone else’s jokes??”
Jenée Desmond-Harris and Joel Anderson discuss a letter in this week’s Dear Prudence Uncensored—only for Slate Plus members.
Dear Prudence,
I had a friend, “John,” with whom I was inseparable from 5th grade until junior year of college. I’ll probably never have a friend like that again. We were true friend soulmates. Long story short, he had a legitimate mental breakdown almost exactly 10 years ago, through which I completely supported him and his family. He sort of recovered normally, then promptly became ultra-religious out of nowhere. I, an unapologetic agnostic, tried not to let that get in the way of our friendship. I was a groomsman in his wedding, I never negatively commented on his belief system that I vehemently oppose, and I tried my best to support whatever life he felt he needed to live to be fulfilled.
But as you can imagine, it became difficult to relate to him about anything, given that the literal only thing he cared about was his faith. Our friendship waned, even though I still cared a lot for him. I am getting married in June and quarreled first with the notion of having him in the wedding party (which I quickly realized was a terrible idea) and settled on just simply inviting John and his wife. I knew he was not going to come. But when he sent me a letter of refusal asserting that this marriage was “fake” because it was not under the umbrella of his church, and how he would be unable to witness a sacrilegious event like my wedding, my blood began to boil, and I’m unsure how to proceed. I am completely fine completely closing the book on this relationship. But the urge to write him back and verbally tear him to shreds is growing by the minute.
—The Angry Agnostic
Dear Angry Agnostic,
I know there are plenty of people who are religious fanatics obsessed with policing the choices of others, and many of them have never had anything near a mental health crisis. But I think because of the timeline laid out in your letter—the way John’s breakdown rolled seamlessly into intense religious beliefs and a struggle to relate to you, one of his oldest friends—I would bet the behavior you’re observing can be linked to his illness. The good news is that he might one day be in a more balanced place and back off from his intolerant stance and angry letter-writing habit. To keep the door open to that (and honestly, just to feel like you’re being the bigger person, which can relieve a lot of stress), resist the urge to tear him to shreds. Instead, write back “I got your letter. It was hard to read, and I hate that you feel that way, but if you ever change your mind, I’d love for you to meet my wife, and I’d love for us to be as close as we used to be.” Then let it go and invite someone off your “B” list—specifically, a person who’s a good friend to you now, in the year 2024, and not just in your memories.
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Dear Prudence,
After four years together, my partner and I recently tied the knot in a small, intimate family wedding. However, despite our efforts to create a joyous atmosphere, unexpected family tensions cast a shadow over our special day. Following our first dance, we invited guests to help us clear some space for dancing, but unfortunately, some misunderstood and began leaving prematurely, inadvertently signaling the end of the celebration. Despite our attempts to clarify, the damage was done, and many departed swiftly. Soon after, my husband’s father became upset and left abruptly, while his mother remained distant for the rest of the evening, leaving my husband feeling overwhelmed with guilt. This unfortunate turn of events has left us both saddened and unsure of how to navigate the aftermath. The stress of the situation, especially in light of my pregnancy, has left me reevaluating how I envision future interactions with my in-laws and how I want to raise our child within this family dynamic. My husband keeps asking if he was at fault for this? I am absolutely certain that regardless of what happened, his parents should have never acted in the way they did, but I might also be biased.
—Distressed Bride
Dear Distressed Bride,
It sounds like right now you have enough experience with your in-laws to say that you don’t want to rely on their presence or good vibes to make special days feel special to you. They’ve shown they aren’t willing or able to put their own feelings aside to keep the peace. You don’t have to issue a permanent policy about how you’ll interact with them for your child’s entire life. But it’s fair to say that they won’t play essential roles in your baby shower, the child’s first birthday, or any events in between. To protect yourself from feeling like a celebration is ruined by any conflicts they have, make sure they’re far outnumbered by your family and friends—people who aren’t going to storm out or sulk if they don’t get their way. And then keep collecting data: Can you count on them? How do you feel in their presence? Do they manage to ruin every event, or are they better in some contexts than others? Then decide as a couple when and how to include them and spend time with them. Make sure your husband knows that no, their behavior is not his fault—but it is going to be his job to make sure it has as little impact on you as possible.
Dear Prudence,
I have a friend who comes over weekly to watch Jeopardy and have dinner with my wife and me. I rarely see this person outside of our one day a week meeting, but she has many different groups of friends and she’s constantly talking about them and showing me pictures and videos about their times together. I really like her, but I feel very envious of the fun things she does without ever receiving an invite to participate. I don’t really understand this compartmentalization of her friends who circle each other but never meet. I’ve even told her that it makes me feel bad to hear about the fun she’s having and not be invited, but she doesn’t seem to get it. I don’t want to stop our weekly visits, I really do enjoy her company. Do you have any suggestions on how I can swallow my envy and just enjoy her for what she is without feeling sad about being excluded?
—Friends with Friends
Dear Friends,
She’s at your house once a week every week! She’s showing up on her own, at the home of a married couple, to spend time with you two and do something you all enjoy. What else do you want? No really, what is the expectation here? That her coworkers invite her to do karaoke and she says “Wait, I have to text this person you’ve never met and see if they want to come along”? That’s strange to me. I also struggle to understand how you would have more than one night a week to dedicate to her stuff, when I assume you have your own friends who don’t know her, and that you and your wife occasionally like to do things as a couple. But maybe those assumptions are wrong. And that may be the issue here, and the source of your jealousy: You need to create a life full of things that you think are fun, so you can have your very own pictures and videos and stories instead of trying to force your way into someone else’s.
Dear Prudence,
My mom and I have always had a weird relationship. We’re friendly and talk often, but keep our conversations mostly surface-level. She has always been a bit judgmental about my appearance and life choices. This January, I found myself unexpectedly pregnant by my fiancé. That’s a whole other issue because she’s very religious, and I’m going to be pretty large at our wedding. I’m currently about twenty weeks along.
Recently, I mentioned to my mom that I had gained about twelve pounds throughout my pregnancy so far. Within 24 hours, she had told both my sisters that she was concerned about my weight gain, for medical reasons of course. (Cue the eye roll.) Prudie, I’m not fat. I eat healthy and go to the gym twice a week. Most of my sugar intake has been fresh fruit, which I admit I consume in pretty large quantities. It helps with pregnancy-related constipation. I’m also growing an entire human. I’ve always been a few pounds heavier than my sisters, but my doctor has never been even slightly worried. I had a checkup on Monday, and the doctor wasn’t worried about my weight either. This is just the latest in a series of comments she has made about my body throughout my life. For her, it seems like being overweight is a moral failing. Both of my sisters have struggled with their relationship with food, partially because of her comments. I realized in middle school that she didn’t like me very much, so it didn’t have the same impact on me.
It hurts my feelings, but it won’t make me stop eating if she says something. She wasn’t happy with my weight before I got pregnant. It seems like being knocked up gave her carte blanche to say whatever she wants about me. She doesn’t think I should get an epidural. She doesn’t think I’m being healthy. My baby is fine. My doctor says I’m fine. My partner thinks I’m sexy. He has also banned the word “fat” from our house because he doesn’t like the way I talked about my changing body. I know my mom isn’t always a nice person. She’s never going to be the person I want her to be. Why am I still so bothered by her comments? I’m at the point where I’m not sure I want her in the delivery room. My MIL will be there because she has been nothing but loving and supportive for the decade I’ve been with her son. Would I be going too far to cut my mom out of the birth of her first grandchild? What else can I do?
—Growing a Person
Dear Growing,
I can feel the impact your mom’s criticism has on you, in part from the lengths you take to detail and explain your eating habits and weight in this letter.
She’s made you feel defensive, and I’m sure her voice is always in your head, arguing with you about whether your choices are reasonable and forcing you to mentally retort with points about the food value of grapes and your doctor’s notes and your husband’s preferences. It’s exhausting. You don’t need to feel judged in this way, especially when you’re in labor.
The only thing is, I can’t tell from your letter whether you’ve told her how hurtful her comments are or asked her to refrain from making them. If you haven’t, why don’t you give it a try? I’m not super hopeful that she’ll change, but it will make you feel better if you give her a chance to improve before letting her know that she’s not invited to the delivery room. If it comes to that, your script can be “Mom, I know you have a lot of concerns about my weight and about my epidural. This is going to be a really vulnerable time for me, and I don’t think I can handle any of that kind of criticism in the delivery room. I deserve to feel good about myself and my choices. Once they’re born and we’re all settled, I’ll let you know when it’s a good time to visit.”
She won’t take it well, I’m sure. But soon you’ll have both yourself and a child to protect from her hurtful comments, so this is the perfect time to get tough, set clear expectations, and hope your kid’s relationship with her will be healthier than yours.
Last year, my sister and I were on a weekend getaway. Our father was turning 88 the following month, and I asked if we should do something and whether she knew what she was getting him. She was evasive. After his birthday, I had to stop at my dad’s, and he mentioned that he and his wife had gone out for dinner with his wife’s daughter and her husband—but that my sister and her husband had also been there!
