Dear Bel,
Widowed quite young, I moved next to a nice neighbour who introduced me to her step-brother Jim and five step-sisters. The girls were standoffish but Jim was lovely.
Eight years later, he and his wife split – and later he asked me for a date. I wasn’t looking for romance but he persuaded me to give him a try.
He’s the nicest, kindest man I’ve ever known. We don’t live together (health problems) but see each other every day and consider ourselves a couple. But his sisters are still hostile.
The eldest says I’m after Jim’s money –when I have more than him and just bought him a (used but very nice) car! It doesn’t seem to matter.
Our real issue is the youngest sister, Sally. Two months ago, we were asked by one sister to a family funeral but when we got there, Sally kicked off and refused to get into the funeral car with us.
I have always thought her mentally unstable but we just got out and drove our own car down to the church. Jim was rather upset but he just accepted it as ‘normal’ behaviour from her.
However, then another funeral – and a massive row. To cut a long story short, Sally demanded I get out of Jim’s front seat as I wasn’t family and had no right to go to a family funeral when she needed a lift. Jim told her to get lost.
She started screaming, kicking our car and hammering on the window.
Another sister tried to calm her, only to be punched and kicked. Jim tried to intervene but Sally ran at him, swearing, and shoved him hard against the house so he fell over.
Trying to restrain her, a passerby was hit for his trouble, so I downed her by kicking the back of her knee. She was just way out of control.
The police were called, Sally punched the female officer.
We all missed the funeral. Sally was taken away and then sectioned, but allowed home after a month.
Now the other sisters are blaming me for upsetting Sally. A close friend of ours has just died and we have been invited by the family. But I’m sure all Jim’s sisters will be there.
Our friend’s family know what happened and say they’ll make sure Jim and I are seated with them at the wake, and we’ll all just hope it doesn’t turn into another punch-up, though they’ll have a couple of big lads to watch Sally, should she show.
Do you have any advice?
Francine
Bel Mooney replies: If I suggest this all sounds like an average day in Albert Square – another fracas by aggressive EastEnders hell-bent on drama – I can assure you I write more in sorrow than sarkiness.
Since I had to edit your long letter by two-thirds, I have plenty of detail about
the way Jim’s sisters have behaved – that punch-up in the street, when the neighbour called the police, being the worst example.
How unspeakably sad that funerals, occasions of mourning and remembrance, should be so disrespected by people with no sense of dignity or restraint. It’s truly shocking.
And there’s that mention of the ‘big lads’ who might be ready to strong-arm the sister with anger issues… Well, do you really think this is the way forward?
Was it a sensible thing for you to ‘down’ Jim’s sister with a kick, no matter what she was doing? Why didn’t you both just drive away?
Those women choose not to think of you as ‘family’ – which may be because they’re still in touch with Jim’s ex-wife and somehow blame you for the split.
I think that’s likely, but who knows what goes through the heads of possessive and irrational people?
I doubt very much that any civilised conversations have ever been had between Jim and his sisters, even if he knows they wouldn’t listen.
And now it seems less likely than ever.
Since you and Jim have found pleasure in each other’s company, especially given the health problems you both suffer (details you shared with me), your decision not to contact the sisters unless they contact you is eminently wise. It’s sad that they thus push their only brother away, but that’s how it is.
My advice is not to go to the friend’s funeral where those sisters are likely to be. Since the man was Jim’s friend, and there’s no need to be joined at the hip, I see no reason for you to be there and make yourself the innocent cause of trouble.
If you decide to go, half expecting conflict, I’m afraid
that decision would render you not innocent. Jim can pay his respects alone, and the two of you could arrange to have a quiet meal with those who invited you, in remembrance, away from those sisters.
This situation won’t change, so stay away.
Dear Bel,
I have been married for 27 years. My wife is a great lady but I don’t think I’ve ever been in love with her. From the start sex was over very quickly because I didn’t really fancy her.
OK, you ask why marry her? I was pushed into it by my father and it seemed the right thing to do at the time. I’d had other girlfriends but always shied away in the end. Nerves, I think.
My wife runs a wonderful home and we have one married daughter. We’ve not had sex for about five years, even though I think she would be willing if I was.
Two years ago, I became involved with a woman at work whose husband was having an affair. We became very close. It led to snogs and cuddles (and a little more) but, because I said I couldn’t leave my wife, she took her husband back. I was devastated and said I would leave my wife because I wanted her badly.
My wife suspected something was wrong and I admitted I fancied this woman but she had gone back to her husband. My wife asked if she hadn’t gone back would I have left? I couldn’t answer honestly, but she’s certainly trying to make the marriage work.
I’m now seeing somebody else from work; we haven’t had full sex (only terrific oral sex) but are very near…
The other woman is waiting for me to leave my wife. I love the thought but feel frightened in case I’m left alone. What do I do?
Derek
‘I hope the guilt you now say you feel can stretch all the way back to when you lied to an innocent young woman and denied her the love she needed,’ writes Bel Mooney
Bel Mooney replies: I wonder if it’s ever occurred to you that you might just have gone through your whole life to date unable to face up to reality – and even feeling afraid of it?
In your youth there were many relationships with girls but you never felt able to be serious about any of them.
You cite ‘nerves’ but let’s (for the sake of argument) call that a fear of commitment.
In the end, you allowed yourself to be ‘pushed’ into marriage by a father who thought you ought to be settling down – a scenario which feels rather like something from another age.
Intimidated by Dad, you married in bad faith and your poor wife has suffered ever since.
I hope the guilt you now say you feel can stretch all the way back to when you lied to an innocent young woman and denied her the love she needed.
When we come on to the two emotional affairs with women from work, it seems to me that both were/are marked by timidity.
It’s one thing to snog and fumble in a car like a randy teenager, but quite another to take such a relationship seriously.
The first time you got frisky it was with a woman upset because of her husband’s affair, but any hopes she had in you were dashed by your fear of leaving your wife.
Don’t tell me that was about morality because I don’t believe it.
Now your wife is working hard – understandably anxious though the ‘great lady’ is – to improve the state of your marriage while you are busily back in that car having sexual pleasure delivered by yet another woman, lucky chap.
And this second lady is keen for you to leave your wife so she can ditch her old man, but you’re afraid it’ll all go pear-shaped and you’ll be left alone.
You aren’t afraid of hurting the woman who has put up with you for 27 years (or, for that matter, the man whose wife is getting steamy in that car with you) just of not having anyone to run a ‘wonderful home’ for you.
I understand what it’s like to go off sex after a long relationship. And what it’s like to fall for somebody you shouldn’t – and that work situations can be a hotbed of frustrated lust.
It’s sad but at least you’re honest for admitting you don’t love the woman you live with. Although that doesn’t absolve you of responsibility for a dishonest marriage in the first place.
You now have two choices – and both take a courage not shown before. You either leave your wife for the other woman, and take the agonising consequences, which might involve estrangement from your daughter. Or being left alone.
Or you stay and seek counselling, doing everything to ensure your wife no longer feels so miserably insecure. I don’t care about your sex drive. She’s a blameless woman who deserves better from the man she said ‘yes’ to, all those years ago.
