My husband and I recently learned that friends of ours — let’s call them Tim and Jane — are separating. They have a baby and had a child who died several years ago, in a sudden and devastating way.
Tim initiated the separation, announcing he had fallen in love with someone else. He began an affair while Jane was pregnant with their second child.
My husband and I are shocked and horrified by Tim’s behavior and choices. We knew they had problems in their relationship (dealing with the death of a child, who would not?), but we never expected that Tim, who tends to be aggressively principled, was capable of this sort of deception and betrayal. You don’t fall in love from one moment to the next; Tim actively chose to deceive his partner at countless junctures over the last months, and this while she was pregnant and then recovering with a newborn.
I can understand being in a relationship that makes you fundamentally unhappy, and Tim uses this argument to justify his behavior. But it seems to me that the responsible thing to do is to accept your unhappiness for a time, to try to sort things out (therapy, which he has refused except for counseling for grieving parents) and then, if it is impossible to reconcile, to separate. Cheating on the mother of your children, and leaving the mother to raise the new baby alone because you feel unhappy, seems the pinnacle of self-absorption.
We have two young children ourselves and are hyperaware of the very real, physical, day-to-day implications of being alone with a baby and what this development will mean for Jane’s personal and professional life. This also seems like the sort of behavior you might indulge in during your early 20s (sans kids), while figuring out and experimenting with the boundaries of commitment and self-growth, but we are well past that life stage, with many years of diverse relationship and life experience.
We are supporting Jane in every way we can. What is the ethical response to Tim? Though Tim has admitted a degree of shame, he shows no remorse. Do we maintain a relationship with him? How? He was one of my husband’s closest friends, and the loss of this friendship is also upsetting, if not as upsetting as his actions. Name Withheld
To love someone — or to fall out of love with someone — isn’t a matter of volition. And yet you’re surely right that Tim wasn’t just the victim of a coup de foudre. It would seem that, in the sorrowful circumstances of a relationship lapped by grief and loss, he looked elsewhere for comfort and then found himself taken up by the exhilaration of a new affair. The virtues of long-term love, the ones that grow with time, are no doubt less thrilling; they are also, in my view, deeper and more substantive. They lend weight to our lives.
That’s why serious relationships — and whether or not they were married, theirs was a serious relationship — involve commitment. Such a relationship has to be cultivated and nurtured, and protected from the temptations that novelty can present. If your husband had known about Tim’s newfound tendresse early enough, there might have been a moment — probably before the affair began — when he could have intervened successfully. Oscar Wilde’s mischievous quip ‘‘I can resist everything except temptation’’ contains a truth: People do best by keeping away from the lure.
And now? There’s a scenario in which Tim grows disenchanted with his new lover (or vice versa) and seeks to be reconciled with Jane. Years later, they’ll think back to the separation as a dark and turbulent time they survived with a little help from their friends. But speaking realistically, this doesn’t seem the likeliest outcome. I assume you’ve both conveyed to him that you think he has behaved badly and that he ought to show (and feel) more remorse. You can convey to him too that you expect him to treat Jane properly through the separation and to be ready to play a role in the life of his child.
Bear in mind, however, that if you’re offering him counsel as a friend, stressing your criticisms may be less effectual than helping him focus on his love for his new baby and recalling the good things in his life with Jane. A friend doesn’t fixate on what’s worst about you; a friend is someone who sees the best in you and tries to help you live up to it. To the extent that your attitude toward him is mainly censorious, he simply won’t want to be around you. Then you’ll have to choose between maintaining your ties with him and sustaining your bond with Jane. This would be a cause for regret. Having friends who keep up with both of them might help in the life of their child.
My work provides a catered lunch every day for all of us. They tend to over-order, so there is usually a fair amount of food left over. My company also provides dinner for people who stay after 6 p.m. (which I usually don’t) — and, if there are enough leftovers from lunch, dinner consists of leftovers. If there aren’t enough leftovers, then the company places an order for pizza or whatever. Any leftover food after dinner is donated to a shelter (I’m not sure what kind).
Sometimes in the late afternoon, if there are lots of leftovers still sitting out, I grab some and eat a second meal. I only do this if there are clearly enough leftovers for the people who stay late. This second meal takes the place of dinner for me, which I would otherwise have to buy or cook for myself. I have a toddler at home, so my evenings are very busy. I make plenty of money and can afford food just fine, but my early dinners at work are far more convenient and free up more time for child care tasks and quality time with the kid.
The reason I think my behavior is ethically acceptable is that I am pretty sure a large portion of food is ultimately thrown away by the shelter — my company’s food donations are sporadic and inconsistent because they consist only of leftover food, so I figure that the shelter doesn’t plan around them. Of course, I don’t know that this is the case.
What do you think? Should I stop eating early dinners at work? Name Withheld, Boston
There are two main considerations at stake here: a) the reasonable expectations of your employers and b) the consequences of what you are doing. So, first, and simplest: If it were clear that you were supposed to take food only at lunchtime or when you were there after 6, you’d be violating the terms on which the food was provided. After all, maybe the reason there’s regularly enough left by 6 p.m. to feed the late-stayers is that other people don’t do what you do, because they think they’re not supposed to. If this is what’s happening, you’re unfairly taking advantage of their restraint. In any case, though, there’s a simple way to find out: Ask. If what you’re doing violates a rule or norm, you shouldn’t do it.
Then there’s the question of whether the food you take might have gone to the needy. You have your suspicions. Why not identify the shelter in question, call it up and see if you can find out what its policies are about accepting prepared food? Do you really want a full moral appraisal of your (possibly) pilfered pesto pasta? Then you’ll have to investigate the consequences of what you’re doing, which can be complicated.
I don’t say this is a good use of your time. Putting a lot of effort into a small issue might distract you from thinking about issues that matter more. An old legal maxim comes to mind: De minimis non curat lex — the law doesn’t care about trifles. Ethics, by contrast, may care about them. But it probably shouldn’t care very much. There are subjects of more consuming interest.
My niece is off to college in September 2020, by which time she’ll be 18. Her parents have not discussed family-planning options, and she confided in me that she doubts they ever will for religious reasons. She asked me to help her with counseling and a doctor’s appointment. I am honored that she trusts me enough, and I want to help. Should I provide assistance without her parents’ knowledge or involvement? Name Withheld
In most states, your niece is legally entitled to keep her parents out of the loop as soon as she’s 18. Even before that, she is very likely entitled to make some medical decisions for herself, as with contraception and treatment for sexually transmitted infections, for example, although many states allow doctors to notify parents, should they choose to. (As usual, legal details vary from state to state.)
But you’re thinking about what you owe her and her parents. Her parents’ views about sex and reproduction, as you make clear, are formed by particular religious commitments that you and she may not share. And in shaping her life, it’s her commitments that matter most. That your niece wants your help and wants to keep it confidential is reason enough to agree to do both those things: She could, after all, go by herself, and it’s probably better if she goes with a family member. Were her parents to learn what had happened, they would most likely be displeased. Yet there’s a superseding concern here that isn’t affected by their religious beliefs: If your niece is thinking about sex, she’s better off knowing her options.
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January 14, 2020 at 05:00PM
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Can We Stay Friends With Someone Who Betrayed His Pregnant Partner? - The New York Times
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