Why I’m Not Going to Be Friends With My Ex-affair Partner

“Yesterday I was clever so I wanted to change the world. Today I am wise so I am changing myself.” Rumi

I was recently at a workshop on digital safety for students. The presenter modeled an exercise where she gave each table of students a red, yellow, and green card. She said the cards modeled a stop sign. When confronting an issue in the digital world, she asked the students what card they should hold up. Red is a clear sign to stop right there. Yellow is a sign to proceed with caution, and green is a sign that it is safe to continue.

In one of the scenarios, the presenter asked the students, “Is it okay if a friend you made on the Internet insists you have to be a secret friend and not tell anyone?”

Of course, every table held up a red sign without hesitation.

Now, I understand that these are minors and that a secret friendship oozes a child predator situation. However, those two words, secret friendship, stayed with me long after I left the workshop.

I’ve written before that I regretted breaking no contact with my ex-affair partner. I felt I finally healed from that eight-year relationship because I had let go of my anger towards him. As I wrote, I was in a good place to check in with him. Yet, when I did contact him, he saw it as an opportunity to reconnect our physical relationship. He had hoped we could continue our affair. If I look up any psychologist’s advice on whether it is healthy or not to stay friends with your ex, one of the number one risks is if you still think of them romantically. When my Ex said within a few weeks of us connecting, “I’m still in love with you,” I saw the danger of getting easily sucked back in.

I did not want to be in an affair again. I would never be fulfilled by a “don’t ask, don’t tell” situation, as he relayed that was his goal in his marriage. Besides, I no longer believed he could even get to a place in his marriage where he had his wife’s “permission.” He talked a good game, but I knew him well. He sought the easy way out of his sexless marriage. He wanted the respect of family and friends who saw him as a loyal and doting caregiver to his wife’s muscular dystrophy, all while having a mistress at his beck and call.

…a mistress that no one would find out about, of course.

Why did I initially want to stay in touch? I think it was because of one of my goals in therapy. To not be so damn angry when I thought of him. But that seemed to have the opposite effect. When I did focus on the good parts, it made me miss him. We talked practically every day for years. This man was very entrenched in my life. I discussed with him every thought, feeling, and choice that I made. When I went through my divorce, I was totally broke. He would whisk me away to a candlelit dinner, and every time, he’d present me with gifts of new dresses or beautiful jewelry pieces. When I would tell him that he didn’t have to spoil me like this, he’d say that he would never stop. The way my face lit up was injecting both of us with joy and bliss.

I have come to terms that it is okay to miss him. It is also not necessarily unhealthy to reminisce on a relationship that was so transformative in my life. I leaned on him while I left an abusive marriage. Where I have to draw the line right now is being in contact, even if he and I tried to fool ourselves into thinking that our correspondence could be platonic.

But sometimes I wonder. What if the day comes when I do meet a partner that would fulfill me? What if it coincides with my ex-affair partner accepting there is no future of a physical relationship for us? My ex-affair partner may meet another woman for intimacy. It would be ideal for him if that woman were also a spousal caregiver. Could we be platonic friends, then?

After examining how my mind reacted to the term, secret friendship, I have doubts. Hearing those words, I realized I didn’t want a secret friend. I think back to when we reconnected to “check-in.” I had to wait for his call when he could find an excuse to do errands. Or listening to him say he only had fifteen minutes because his wife would be home from her hair appointment. Or I couldn’t mail him a surprise gift or invite him to a party at my home. We couldn’t even make definite plans for lunch because his wife might want to do something with him that day.

One time, I was upset after a heated conversation with my ex-husband. I messaged my ex-lover that I was distraught. He called me, but I could tell it wasn’t a good time. He said his wife was taking a bath, and he was in a downstairs office. He whispered so low I could barely hear him as music played in the background to drown out his voice. It made me feel worse, and I wished I would have just vented to a girlfriend.

I’m blessed in that I do have a core group of girlfriends. I have women I can call if something is going on in my town, and I want company. I don’t need the inconvenience of a secret friend. I still care about my ex-affair partner and wonder what is going on in his life. But I also don’t want the hassle of communicating in secret anymore.

Even with all that aggravation over when we can speak or see each other, the worst is a gnawing feeling that if you’re someone’s secret, how important can you truly be? There can’t be priority or even flexibility. Friendships thrive on authenticity, intentions, and effort. Unfortunately, a secret relationship has little wiggle room.

Until I heard that term at my workshop, I didn’t realize that my friendship stoplight had turned red, and I had hit the brakes. I’m unsure when and if I’ll proceed with my old dear friend. I’m too busy enjoying the peace.

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