Due to moving, we’ve had three marriage counselors since D-day. At least two of them suggested that on some level, even subconsciously, I wanted to get caught. My first reaction to that was something like, “No, why would I want to get caught?” As I think deeply about it, maybe there was at least a part of me that had the following internal dialogue. This is a very mentally-ill internal dialogue, so please don’t think I defend it, excuse it, or have anything but regret for it.
It went something like this. “Oh, woe is me. I’m suffering so much, with my uncaring wife not indulging my sexual whims, stroking my ego, flattering me, or spinning the tales of her sexual past, my sexual past, and my place in the world in some way that would make me feel better about myself. Maybe if she sees how desperate I am for sex and flattery, she’ll take pity on me and try to comfort me. Maybe she’ll see that she was wrong not to flatter me, give in to my whims, and re-write the story of the past to be less threatening to my ego.”
Consciously, I did not want to get caught. That would put an end to my self-serving double-life. But, subconsciously, maybe there was a part of me that wanted to get caught, to be diagnosed as victim of some mental trauma or mental illness, to selfishly draw attention to my perceived pain — my wife’s consequent pain be damned. It was all about me.