‘The chain of marriage is so heavy that it
takes two to bear it; sometimes three.’
— Alexandre Dumas
When your soulmate, as you once fondly thought of them, turns into a shadowy haze and nothing they say or do shakes you out of that haze, except probably by way of irritation, if not angst, then you look for an outlet.
Some women resort to shopping, some drown themselves in their kids and household duties, some join a club, some find a confidant in their girlfriends, and some allow themselves to be swayed by romance. Given a choice, women would always have a dash of romance in their life, no matter the age.
Since women don’t necessarily look for physical fulfilment, the idea of romance is enough to bring them back to life from the rut they find themselves in. She gets her ideal dose of the much-needed vitamin romance when the object of her attention reflects the subtle messages she has been sending most innocuously. She derives her mileage from the palpable tension, the iron will required to curb the mind-blowing chemistry, and the pretence of helplessness of being committed. She is like the Venus, her joy is in being desired, not in being possessed.
When she approaches her partner, she is quick to switch over the person, an act known in the Kama Sutra as the congress of transferred love. If her husband is alert, he will be able to detect the difference, although he will think twice before questioning her on her performance. He knows that all hell will break loose if he did, and he will have to buy whatever story she sells him. Most men get so caught up in the act that even if they do notice any difference, they put it down to their approach and prowess. As long as she is technically faithful to him, who cares what or, rather, who is on her mind! After all, she is still the virgin he had deflowered.
A woman, however, can easily detect when her husband mentally switches on to someone else. There is a marked difference in the level of passion and performance. A woman’s multitasking brain can simultaneously respond to and observe the performance. She loathes it when he does that; it makes her feel abused rather than loved. She can’t imagine which is worse—that he rather sleep with the woman he is imagining her to be, or this facade. He rolls over happy and fulfilled, she lies awake livid and agitated.
Detected or undetected, how fair is it to go to bed with one and think of another? Are we really willing to be loyal in body and unfaithful in soul? Are we willing to be the body for someone else’s soul? Isn’t it the sanctity of marriage for the body and the soul to belong to the same person? The body is sleeping with one person as someone else; that is not fidelity, that is deceit. So, what is the way to work through this separateness of togetherness? Can we look ourselves in the eye for the guilt of committing emotional infidelity?