Doing Something Small with Heart…

…can make a big difference.

In the world of recovery from life shattering betrayal, some days the biggest celebration is that you survived the day. You continued breathing, you ate something, showered, fed the dogs.

Bravo.

When you can add to that basic life survival something positive, all be it small, to your daily regime, you are taking what they refer to as ‘baby steps’ toward reclaiming your life. You are on the yellow brick road to your new OZ, which may look like an unimagined emerald city dream in its lack of familiarity, or it might look like the comfort of your old life sans the weight of the abuse of un-attended to betrayal.

When living in the ever present dearth of emotional support and repair work, it de fact0, exerts a tremendous toll. You are fighting day in and out, not just to self sooth and find your way back to the light, you are also carrying the baggage of an unrepentant, un-empathetic spouse weighing you down. You are facing the doppelgänger of the person who seemed to care for and protect you, except you are not receiving care or protection. You are left in the vast desert of aloneness to deal with the devastation without any aid but your own.

I am sorry. It is a shitty place to be.

So what’s a betrayed wounded to do? Something small with great heart. What might that look like?

-carve a pumpkin to place in the window for trick or treaters

-Make that old familiar comfort food recipe —or try a new one.

-put away the dishes – anti clutter is salve for the shredded soul.

-give the dog a bath. Baby shampoo fragrant soft furry buddy is sensual reward to your frayed nerves.

-watch an entertaining upbeat movie.

-volunteer for a beach clean up, or a morning of walking shelter dogs, or a fund raising walk for the cure.

-clean out your junk drawer.

-call an old friend to tell them how much you appreciate their friendship.

-blow bubbles into the breeze.

-play the harmonica like you know how—upbeat or sad and mournful

-let Alexa entertain you with her choice of music similar to your favorite artist.

-stare up at the stars and marvel at your place in an enormous universe.

-Sit round a campfire or in front of a fireplace watching the hypnotic flames dance

-decorate to celebrate the fall using natural items found on a neighborhood scavenger hunt/walk.

-Write a blog entry or comment on a recovery site/thread in support of other betrayed who are starving to know they are not alone

-be quiet and slow down in a comfortable position and allow yourself to just be—and direct your thoughts toward what your next small step might be

-light candles to accompany dinner

-smile at a stranger you pass–make eye contact acknowledging their humanity and worth

_______________________________

Something small with heart. Something that in and of itself might not budge your mood or your life. But just you wait and see how those little things begin to add up. The weight of their hope and love begins to fill your empty hurting heart.

Small. A thousand points of light. A thousand days of small investments in you and your world.

For you.

By you.

Goooooooo you.

When “Sad” Just Doesn’t Describe It

I am fully cognizant of my blessed place in the world. I was born into a middle class family, caucasian, educated, stable.

Thing is, when you are born into this, or any other circumstance, those circumstances seem ‘normal’ to you. You get used to any hand of cards so dealt, at least until and unless you are educated otherwise by someone you meet who has it either easier or more challenging. And to recognize that it takes some maturity, some mindfulness and empathy to ‘get this’.

I guess what I am saying is that relative privilege as compared to the bulk of the rest of the world population is pretty much lost on a small child. You know what you know and recognize your world as being familiar and, in the case of we so blessed, safe and secure.

Just as it does no good comparing your pain to mine, your challenges to mine, it makes no sense to tell a person who has lived a certain reality that they have had it so good compared to x,y,z.

Happiness is happiness. Pain is pain. And all the feelings experienced in between are valid to each individual within the confines of their world.

My world contained two stable parents, committed to each other and the safety/security of their family. They supported education, new experiences and the freedom to explore possibilities. I felt it from the earliest days. I remember taking my bike to a nearby field and arranging the grass, the organic materials into ‘rooms’ in the house of my making. I dreamed of having my own home one day. I dreamed of having a partner to help me make this home as stable and loving as that I had grown up in—even more so.

I dreamed of bettering the already secure, warm world I knew. The difference would be that this future home would be mine–and my spouse’s. It would be a place familiar in its loving support yet a new invention unique to just we two…and any children we might welcome into its loving walls.

I don’t think I am unique in my dreams. They were not the fanciful imaginary princess dreams of Disney. They were much closer to what seemed familiar and normal in my world. Reality. A real possibility.

Mine were the dreams of a husband who worked hard outside the home, came home to dinner I’d make–kiss on the cheeks, hug. Weekends he’d fix things that broke, mow the lawn, I’d do laundry and shop and clean. Very 1950’s Leave it To Beaver-esque. Much like my reality. It seemed ideal–fair partnership with celebrations of family and time together.

When culture shifted into expecting women to take on a job outside the home, I prepared for that too. And I followed through. With the exception that my Leave It To Beaver Dad/husband did not do the yard work or wash the cars or manage the finances . Yes–he held down the job and even did occasional fix it work, but my realty was not like what I witnessed as a child. It was not balanced in labor, even though I so wanted to see it that way. I wanted to be the ever supportive, sacrificing for the family cause wife. I so wanted to grow into the partial breadwinner too–be the modern woman.

Now that was not real. Society seemed to mirror the struggle of so many women like me who simply could not do it all and maintain their health/sanity. It was the eighties and women were told they could do it all and have it all.

Not true.

A huge disservice to so many women—still is in so many ways. So many echoes of imbalance in labor.

So while I was trying to live the fiction perpetrated by modern culture, that I could have it all and be it all—my ‘husband’ was detaching from me and putting mental, emotional, financial and physical energy into another woman. Into a fantasy–false intimacy that was nothing more than pretend.

The very real effect of that was to overburden me with responsibilities. Responsibilities I thought were a natural consequence of shifting roles and my desire to meet them.

Perfect storm.

And sad just does not describe the feelings I have in my gut day in and out when I realize now the actuality of what I was living. I was duped and my good giving nature taken advantage of. Totally.

And I thought it was the natural consequence of shifting roles and demands.

If this is not circumstance for grief, I don’t know what is. If it weren’t so tragic, it could be construed as the plot line of a TV sit com.

Ha, ha, ha…caught in a cultural wave that covered up the intimate betrayal that was actually increasing its cost exponentially. But how was I to know that? It was a brave new world frontier. Women could ‘bring home the bacon, fry it up in a pan and never let you forget to know you’re a man.”

Total cultural brainwashing B.S. no woman could or should have to live up to.

That was me. The dedicated. The dreamer of simple home and hearth dreams. The hard working all supportive spouse and mother me.

And I got betrayed as reward for all my effort.

As they say– no one ever claimed life to be fair.

An understatement, if ever I heard it. Ever felt it. Felt the grief. Grief of reality as it really played out. Grief that my giving was used to support his betrayal. Grief that had he chosen to turn toward me, rather than away from me–we’d be one hell of an amazing force for good, couple in this world. Heck—we were pretty awesome, even with the anchor of his betrayal weighing down our ability to be awesome.

I say—be awesome anyways. Be your own brand of awesome. Don’t expect anyone to help you. You can do it on your own awesome own. Leave the dynamic duo to those who are blessed to have two healthy individuals in their partnership/marriage.

That was not you, not us, not me. We are no less awesome. In fact we are MORE awesome to have accomplished all we did with an anchor weighing us down.

You are amazing!

When Only Sleep Will Do

Sometimes the emotional investment required in grieving weighs the body and the mind to a point of collapse. Unless we extend grace to ourselves we risk illness or worse.

Broken heart disease–a medical fact. Yes, a person can actually die of a broken heart’s complications.

Dear friends. You are precious no matter how badly someone else has treated you. No matter how much the abandonment of your suppose may feel like rejection of you–don’t you believe it.

Wife of the author of Worthy Of Her Trust, and author of the betrayed partner’s recovery workbook, Rescued, Shelley Martinkus illuminates the stress:

“Being married to a man with a sexual integrity issue and/or a sexual addiction, I believe is the most painful of addictions out there. It feels ever so personal for a wife, and rightfully so. When a spouse is addicted to alcohol or drugs, their partner realizes that they are choosing these substances over them and they are choosing these substances over becoming healthier. Choosing alcohol over a spouse doesn’t feel as personal as when a husband chooses other women over his own wife.

Almost all the time, at the core for men struggling with these sorts of behaviors is a core belief that they are unwanted and unloved. Keep in mind that these holes in your husband’s heart started growing in childhood, well before he met you. Deep down your husband feels unloved, unwanted, and even abandoned. In fact, the sense of abandonment – some believe – is seen as the most influential contributor to a sexual addiction. Typically there is a sense of abandonment present. At the core of abandonment is this: “you don’t want me.”

Think about it: will your husband get rejected when he looks at porn? Will he get rejected when he goes to a strip club? Will he get rejected when he chooses to masturbate? The answer is no. This in turn causes a false intimacy to develop. This isn’t true intimacy between a husband and a wife; this is fabricated.

Thus, a husband with a sexual integrity issue typically isn’t very connected to himself or the people close to him. He never learned how to be emotionally intimate with others.

It’s common for me to hear a wife say she “never hears her husband share his feelings”. The reason being: a man with an integrity issue or addiction doesn’t know how to connect with himself or with others.Two of the best words to describe a man with a sexual integrity issue are: detached and selfish.

If you think this destructive behavior has only affected your sexual relationship with your husband, think again. When a man is devoting any amount of time to any part of the continuum mentioned above, it affects multiple areas of the couple’s life.”

Now if this doesn’t make your head swim and your heart swell in empathy for those of us who are trying to come to terms with intimate betrayal, not sure what would. No mater how many times we betrayed hear this perfect logic, our hearts are still broken. We simply can not imagine being so detached as to serve ourselves by betraying our spouse. We have never known abandonment like what they think they have…until now.

Our saving grace? We are healthy adults who have acquired the tools to deal with abandonment and grief. Or so it would seem, most days.

But some days, I melt onto my bed, even in the middle of the day, unable to keep my eyes open. My body aches, my heart aches and my mind swims in a sea of grief.

Sleep. Blessed sleep.

Go’in for a walk

Every night.

Dogs.

Walk.

Ah… that life could be boiled down to the basic necessities. As a dog those would be sleep, eat, poop, play and walkies.

They convey a really healthy message actually. What thrills them over and over again are the basics in life. They never tire of the routine. The only thing that trumps the above is the home arrival of their person.

I am their person in my house. They do the doggie dance. They swarm about my feet, then run into the family room, dance continuing. All they want is acknowledgement that I see them, reassure them that all is right in their world with a snuggle and a pat.

Simple.

Ah, the simplicity of life.

To remember that, in moments of trauma triggers, would be so calming. The basic comforts of life are here each and every day.

And so are the dogs. My personal fan club. The satellites that orbit about me on the bed at night. “Assume the position,” as my housemate has termed it. I am blessed with two small canine bodies flopping down next to me in bed and one large one on her bed at the foot of my bed.

And I am reminded. All is right in the world, at least for tonight.

Hallmark Saturday

Sometimes self care looks like sitting on the couch with a carafe of brewed coffee, a faithful dog and the Hallmark Channel. Now before you go running for the door, let me share that even the men in my house got caught up in the beginnings of ‘Countdown to Christmas” the other day – a parade of Hallmark produced holiday movies that will air round the clock for…gasp…the next two months. Today I was mostly, blissfully alone.

Maybe you are thinking that this blog is just about another binge of TV bubblegum for the mind. If I were a TV binger, I might agree. But I am not. I am a doer. Even in yesteryear, I was not one to sit long enough to watch a whole movie. Not never, but seldom.

Well today I took my senior care client’s suggestion to ‘rest’. She said, in a motherly crossed with friendly way on Friday, “Rest”. She knew I’d had a lousy night Thursday night. I’m sure I looked drawn. It doesn’t take Einstein to see the obvious: I’m struggling. Even on my best day, I’m fairly certain I have an aura of sadness. Like an underground stream that only occasionally breaks out to the surface, it’s impossible to hide the flow of sadness– all the time.

And the flow of my life has been lonely.

Anyways, I decided to become a couch potato, punctuated by periods of brisk strolls around the house (during commercials) and a dog walk in the evening, of course. I sat in brief meditation in the morning, whipped up a cheesy omelette late morning, had salad for tween lunch and dinner. Order in parmesan creamy sauced chicken and onion, thin crust pizza. Simple, cozy food.

My Amazon order of solar lights arrived–cracked glass balls with changing illumination colors after dark. Fun to place them about the unadorned area of the back garden. They look like floating planets a-glow in the darkness.

And I allowed myself to get drawn into the snowy scenery, the garland laden doorways, the sparkling trees, the kids frosting cookies and building gingerbread houses, graceful skiers whooshing down the slopes. So much lovely scenery to what are essentially romances. I wouldn’t call it plastic unreal pollyanna world because there is believable angst and life challenges–ahh, with the exception that ALL the female characters of every age have perfect hair, lol.

All in all, it was just what the doctor ordered. Rest and relaxation. Ahhh…self care that didn’t cost anything but slowing down. My chest is still tight, my sinuses swollen and my posture hard to keep from slumping, but that’s okay. Sometimes a person seems worse before better…you know ‘the darkest hour is just before the dawn.”

Here’s to doing better, feeling better and being fine with this new and wonderful gift I am giving myself. Slowing down with rest and relaxation. You really ought to give yourself the gift too.

Remembering

They say that memory is a fickle thing. That each of us colors what was real and stores the memory in our own unique way. This is why the same event can be recalled differently by each individual who witnessed it.

None of this reality—the reality of the unreality I know is likely to be each of our recollections, can touch the agony of the mind’s eye when ‘seeing’ our spouse in bed in the throes of passion with another. Nothing can ever change that reality or those images branded with the searing hot iron of trauma.

We must give up all hope of ever having a better past.

A huge order. Probably–no, absolutely the most painful thing I have ever undertaken.

PTSD. No one who has ever suffered from it will EVER get over it. The memories are inextinguishable. The reality that we were thrown away for a lie, manipulated to remain in a marriage made null and void, yet made to remain as a full participating partner, even in the bedroom, when most of us would vomit, not made love to a spouse who was using our goodwill and trust for their own benefit.

PTSD is forever.

It can be managed, but like the past that can never be changed, neither can the presence of the dark and painful memories right beneath the surface ready to be triggered.

And it is incumbent upon the betrayed to manage their PTSD. No one can do it for us. We were tried, judged, convicted and sentenced to a lifetime of trauma in varying stages of remission….by an unfaithful partner. That is the cost with which we have been saddled against our will. We were never given a choice.

Not like the war combatant, rather like the civilian caught in the war zone. The combatant consented to be present to atrocity. The crying child in a burned out shell of his home, did not.

We are the children of betrayal. We, the widows of infidelity. We the unfairly sentenced to a life term.

Reality.

The question is—Will you let it be the central feature of your life? Or will you disallow the interminable perseveration of pain?

Steely determination to NOT be defined by the choices of another. Even if that other was the love of your life. We are not so vilely betrayed by strangers. No, our greatest love held the knife.

What do I choose to remember? That once upon a time I was the beloved child of two parents who gave me everything important–the most important of those gifts, self respect, love and …gratitude.

I choose gratitude.

The World’s Gonna Turn and the Sun’s Gonna Shine

No matter what happens in my life or yours, no matter the good, the bad, or the ugly—the world’s gonna turn and the sun’s gonna shine.

That might sound negative and a downer to some. It does to me sometimes too.

What I am struggling to keep in place is the ability to notice the world turning and the sun shining. It is precisely the reliability and wonder of these natural occurrences that give me strength…and hope. I know that no matter what happens, the good or the bad, I can rely on beautiful sunrises, cool summer breezes, twinkling holiday lights, the smell of rich brewing coffee each morning, my dog’s loving yap of welcome, the new sprouting life in the spring and the amazing abundance of colors in the fall.

All these and more are the gifts of life given to me and to you without cost.

We are the recipients of the most amazing gift on earth— life.

And no one and nothing can take that from us–no matter how we are treated by others or what set of circumstance may befall us.

The world will turn and the sun will rise.

More Heartbreak Every Day

Every day my UH chooses to turn away from me my heart breaks a little bit more. Just when I think it can not break any more than it already has, I find out I am wrong. Every time my UH chooses to avoid talking to me another day, every time he chooses ‘recovery’ meetings or therapy, or working out or attending yet another 12 step workshop I wonder.

“Is today the day he will begin to use the tools he learns about in all his attendance? Is today the day he will break through his wall of discomfort with anything seen by him as difficult– and engage? “

And each night before bed as I finish meditating or reading I wonder…and my heart hurts. Another day without interaction. Another day choosing to turn away from me. Another day to refuse to see the wounded woman in front of him. Another day to shift the blame onto the woman whom his actions have hurt. “She’s why I have to face myself. She is forcing me to face reality. She wants me to do it just her way. I don’t want to do it her way. She is controlling me.” and on and on…always ending on it’s her fault notes, shame and withdrawal.

I am a human being who needs to hear your recognition of your choices, your understanding of what damage those choices have done and why. I am a human being who has no earthly way to feel safe much less reconnect without this. Simple but not easy.

Simple to write up a timeline of choices both before and after d-day that have caused damage to self and others. Choice to approach me one day, one recognition of choice at a time and process through each. Validate and take responsibility for that choice. recognize what about that choice you now see as unhealthy or a distortion of reality. What you now see might have been better choice. What choice you might make in the future when you can now recognize that delusional or warped thinking, and, dare I say it, APOLOGIZE? GRIEF expressed from the heart for all the damage to self and others. GRIEF at the tremendous loss of real relationship that has only escalated over the years since your choice to turn away from what was our real relationship.

You have diminished your own life. You have lived a pretend, a make believe, a lie when you could have turned toward your wife and engaged in the real interaction and communication that make up the fabric of a real relationship. A relationship that does not exist in denial of differences, denial of conflict, denial of need to negotiate.

And EVERY day he has opportunity to choose me. Everyday he could practice his atrophied real engagements muscles in the imperfect manner we all do when we choose to be vulnerable enough to express our heart to another person.

And every day he turns away emotionally. Oh he might undertake some household fix it job that has been on the list a long time. He may even have a success once in a blue moon at fix it completion. And then he wants fanfare and recognition of what he has until then put off. He still wants adoration and fanfare at the expense of any engagement in anything difficult or real. Praise me, but don’t expect me to talk to you, to open up, to process, to reassure, to validate, to recognize, to apologize, to engage. No–not that!

And so the non-relationship continues, except now I am in full reality. I now recognize that this has been his way of remaining in rainbows and sunshine ‘reality’ at the expense of any true balance in facing ALL of reality.

I allowed it to happen. It happened in front of my eyes. He little by little withdrew emotionally and retreated into fun, fast and easy—only good things allowed ‘reality’–leaving me to deal with the other real challenges or reality. And I did it!! I accepted this! Little by little.

Now when I will no longer except faux rainbows and unicorns only–I am the bad guy. I am the sourpuss. I am controlling and unreasonable. I am the source of his pain and discomfort.

Sorry Charlie.

Welcome to the real world.

Accept it and deal with it—or leave. Take your ‘good stuff allowed only’ and go live in your fiction–alone…or with some other(s) who are willing to accept the surface, the fun, the fast, the easy at the expense of truth and the amazing rush of power and wonder of living in true reality. Warts and all.

So for now I am a team of one…as has been the case in reality for far too long. Team me.

Us does not exist. His choice to turn away.

Abundance of Caution

This relatively new phrase seems to taunt those of us who have suffered intimate betrayal. How in the world could we have been cautious in our primary relationship to catch drift of our partner’s impending or ongoing betrayal? What about trust? Aren’t wedding vows supposed to mean something?

Evidently not to those broken souls who betray their spouses.

At some point in their lives vows became optional–a mere suggestion that they had good reason to ignore.

So what, dear betrayed, could we have done? What could they have done?

Assume the human nature in ALL of us that can lead us to stray. I believe, that given the right set of circumstances, nearly all of us could cross the line and throw our vows to the wind. We are pretty much all capable of justifying intimate betrayal in our minds.

I know. I did it too.

I was a romance author on the rise. I was writing racy hot and steamy interactions between single consenting adults that could set a page on fire. Some of my tales were more tame with a sweet romantic bent, but all of them included the very human ingrained survival sexual attraction. A deep , deep need to be valued.

We are animals. Advanced animals capable of employing deferred gratification and commitment to a higher cause, purpose or person. Yes– all capable. Yet all vulnerable.

Yet even me myself and I, as a woman of integrity and commitment was sorely tempted. I was exposed to a cornucopia of men of all ages, walks of life and varying attractiveness. I interviewed dozens to learn of their backgrounds, their sensibilities, their dreams and aspirations. I wanted to learn about men’s hearts. I wanted to enable myself to write real.

As a woman who was a virgin before my husband and a young adult of only a handful of teen puppy love experiences, I felt bereft of real adult relationship—including sexually. I felt the pull of sexual allure to a few of the men I interacted with. And they to me. We engaged in a sort of dance of intimacy by the very nature of my inquisitive line of questioning. I felt the draw.

Not only did I feel the draw, I allowed myself to benefit from the ego inflation said draw brought. Me. Mrs. integrity central.

My Uh’s intimacy anorexia, his inability/unwillingness to feed my deep, deep need for connection… for years. Oh my goodness. A perfect storm.

I know the mechanics of an affair. Intimately. I know the loss of normal self restraint at the hands of God’s ingrained attraction between man and woman of heterosexual persuasion. It doesn’t matter whether I actually slipped between the sheets with any of these men. I felt it. I experienced the draw. My ingrained humanity surfaced. I felt wanted, appreciated, even lusted after.

To say you would never cross the line is naive.

We are all made of the same basic stuff. The same natural draw to other opposite sex of the species, as heterosexuals. Given the right set of circumstances–the right derth of intimate connection with one’s spouse, the right loneliness, the right hole in our heart—we can all fall.

And so I caution you, dear betrayed. As a weakened, fallible, deeply wounded female animal–you are at great risk of falling into arms that seems to offer the validation and understanding that our partner, as a broken intimacy anorexic man, is incapable.

It is well known and widely guarded against in the recovery community. I remember one of the most well known long term affair recovery organizations made the very human, un-cautious mistake of having betrayed and unfaithful at the same in-hotel conference some years back–in naivety. Witnessing some tip toeing into each other’s rooms–a stop put to that dynamic to never be repeated. No more mixed conferences.

We, dear betrayed have our sense of self more deeply wounded and bleeding than ever in our lives. We are more lonely, more needy than perhaps we ever shall be. And we are human.

Out of an abundance of caution, I suggest extreme care of your heart, your soul, and yes–your body. We may be screaming our personal warnings to ourselves and chanting every internal mantra of self love possible. But we have been wounded. We crave salve. We crave understanding and love. And our unfaithful are so often incapable.

Guard your fragile self. And be kind to yourself should you slip on that slippery slope.

You are worth it.

Betrayed Want to Be Prioritized

Duh.

Really, I don’t mean to sound flippant. One of the recovery communities most famous spokesman did a vlog with this message. I’m not sure why it should baffle me so, but it does. In what distorted reality can an unfaithful NOT realize this? After throwing away and disrespecting the person he swore to love and protect– in the grossest way? Really?? The betrayed has NOT .

What sort of self delusion must be in place to think a betrayed spouse who has had the very fabric of their existence ripped from beneath them would think she could feel safe to be in relationship with the person who has betrayed her? None that I can imagine. Not without a huge amount of reassurance both in words and actions that they are the person the unfaithful has come to realize is the person of their reality-based choice.

Reassurance that the betrayed ARE everything the unfaithful has failed to see for the length of their betrayal. That the betrayed are not only the person the unfaithful fell in love with and promised to love and protect, but that the betrayed have matured, grown and are amazing to even consider taking the unfaithful back into the life the unfaithful shattered.

Why in the world would a betrayed want to become vulnerable and intimate with someone who has betrayed them who is not repentant, not self aware, not prioritizing repair work and the heart of their betrayed? It simply defies human nature, let alone wise choice.

Fool me once…

And it isn’t going to be a qick fix. There is no quick fix. It will require an incredible amount of patience on the part of the unfaithful. They have shattered their betrayed’s world. It is not realistic that trust will nor should be restored without serious repetitive trustworthy action.

Today was my sister in law’s birthday. My UH called her to wish her well, at which time she told him her hubby took her on a beach mini get away and they were bicycle riding along the beach bike trail. Really? Lucky and deserving her.

I couldn’t help but realize my UH has NEVER done anything close to that for my birthday–or any other day. Never a get away or undertaking that did not have expectation of sexual pay off. Nothing just because I would love it.

How yucky does that make me feel in retrospect? How much an object?

How does an UH expect to illicit healing and growth and new relationship if that UH is not willing to vulnerably undertake the love and care of his (betrayed) partner? Isn’t this just a continuation of the neglectful mindset that got him to taking her for granted in the first place? In what reality does a UH expect his partner to cozy up and engage with a partner who does not prioritize and/or express his appreciation for the person he supposedly loves and chose to be a life partner?

How long are we betrayed supposed to stick around with a cake and eat it too mentality–the same that led him to betray us in the first place?

“Your relationship will be in serious jeopard,” I hear the aforementioned vlog presenter say.

Well….duh.

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