A Man Shouldn’t Behave Like a Woman!

Once, I was courted by a gentleman named Edward. He was the sort of fellow steeped in tradition, the kind who truly believed in romance. Always willing to lend a hand, hed walk children to school in the rain and leave scraps for stray cats on his way home. He carried a certain charm about him, had his own flat in London, a well-kept car, and held a respectable position at work.

At the time, I felt blessed he chose me for his bride. I believed myself the luckiest woman alive. My friends were green with envy, repeating as one: Be careful, you dont want to lose a man like that.

So, I tried my best not to let him slip away, and he clung to me just as tightly. Yet my happiness was fleeting.

One evening, Edward returned home looking troubled, eyes fixed on the floor. I pressed him for ages about what was wrong. At last, he admitted hed met my ex-husband. Quite by chance, or so it seemed. I must explain: I hadnt spoken to my ex in ages. In fact, Edward didnt even know what he looked likeId never shown him a photograph, never described him. So it became clear Edward must have sought him out himself. Still, this meeting was merely the beginning.

Suppose for a moment it truly was accidental, and Edward somehow recognized him. Even then, it was Edward who struck up a conversation, asked him for a smoke, and soon the subject turned to me. Id never kept secrets from Edward, so I could only wonder, what on earth were they discussing? To say I was shocked would hardly do justice to the confusion and hurt I felt. Later, my fiancé confessed he probably oughtnt have done it. Turns out, hed asked my ex how I was as a person, what my temperament was like, why our marriage failed, and so on.

I broke down in tears. To me, it felt like the deepest betrayalto seek out my ex-husband and dig up details from him, when I was right there, willing to answer anything Edward wished to know. Is this normal? Is it acceptable, I wondered silently. Why, Edward?

My ex, as ex-husbands sometimes do, spouted all sorts of nonsense. Afterwards, Edward came to me, questioning whether my ex spoke the truth. Why should I need to justify myself for things that never happened? To have to defend myself from someone elses gossip seemed so unfair.

Suddenly, all respect I once felt for Edward withered away. I could understand elderly ladies gossiping over their knitting in village squares, but thats hardly the same. They are grannies, after all. But Edward was a grown man! Why sneak around behind my back, collecting stories? He had chosen me for his wife; we shared a home. Id never given him the slightest reason not to trust me. What he did struck me as so petty, so base, it completely killed any desire I had to remain by his side. There was no excuse for his actions. I simply could not forgive such a betrayal.

Id always felt that if someone dared utter an unkind word about a mans sweetheart, the man should, at the very least, be outragedat worst, there might even be a row. But to purposely seek out old flames and probe them for gossip about your betrothed, well, that was beyond the pale.

And so, the perfect Edward tumbled in my esteem. It was then the words of the old generation came to mind: in a family, above all, there must be respect. I never took things to extremes, but mens gossip was, for me, too much to bear. A man is entitled to his weaknesses, his tears, his faults, his blunders. But to behave like a fishwife, believing every scrap of hearsaynever!