Unmasked? Unforgiveable!

Every Tuesday we post something about strengthening or rebuilding marriages. Hope it helps.

—

Unmasked? Unforgiveable!

In the Gaston Leroux classic The Phantom of the Opera, a disfigured musical genius tutors an ingénue soprano who he’s fallen deeply in love with. At a critical point in the story, the protégé Christine, curious to know what her mentor looks like beneath the mask, snatches it away from his face when his back is turned. Furious at being exposed, he lashes out at her, screaming that she, by unmasking him, has effectively ended their relationship.

You know the greatest crime you can commit against some men? See them. See them as they are, unmasked and vulnerable, and they’ll be convinced you can never again love or respect them since you’ve had a good look at the real them. And that can be the beginning of the end.

No wonder adulterous flings can be so compelling! The woman a man’s lived with for years knows him without his mask. Whereas his co-workers and colleagues see him at his professional best, she’s seen him at 6am, sagging jowls, morning breath and all. She’s lost the adoring, doting attitude she may have had in earlier times, and her eyes don’t reflect the same admiration they used to. How could they? She loves him, certainly, but the ups and downs of ongoing intimacy in close quarters can knock the idealism out of the most ardent of wives.

But another woman who’s been less invested in him and, more to the point, has seen less of the real him, can be an ardent admirer indeed. In her eyes he sees the respect and the naïve You’re My Hero look he misses and craves. He feels bigger with her, more competent, special and stud-like. Strictly speaking, it isn’t so much her he loves as the way he feels with her. It’s intoxicating, and it’s the stuff broken vows are made of.

Of course, not every adulterous act can be traced to these elements. But search the history of many philanderers and you’ll find them. “I stopped feeling like a man with my wife”, they’ll say defensively, “but with this other woman I was strong and virile again.” It’s a weak excuse, to be sure, founded in selfishness and guile. But to the unmasked man, known too well by his faithful but no longer starry eyed wife, it’s reason enough to wander.

But a man in that case is being too stupid to realize that the love of the woman who truly knows him, warts and all, is the very type of love that will sustain him because it’s based on knowledge and commitment rather than romantic imagery. I know, because even as I write this, I look across the room at my partner of 24 years and realize that she is far from impressed with me (a laughable understatement) but more deeply committed than any idealistic third party could ever be. She knows me at my worst, realizes what I can be at my best, and accepts the in-between state I live in most of the time. I’d love to be truly adored, sure, but I adore being truly loved. Because only where there’s real knowledge can there be real intimacy; the one simply can’t be without the other.

True closeness means relinquishing the mask. And ironically, once it’s discarded, a man may realize it was an unnecessary prop all along. Yes, love usually begins when we’re presenting ourselves at our best, but ripens and deepens when our beloved sees us in the stark light of day to day living and hangs in there, supporting us with consistent caring rather than awe.

No third party can compete with that, and no truly wise man will allow one to even try.

—

Joe Dallas is available for telephone counseling. For more information contact him directly at jdallas(at)socal(dot)rr(dot)com