Why Women Blow Up Their Marriages

Their reasons are often surprisingly mundane

Many people, especially irreligious people, are under the false impression that half of all marriages fail. That is outdated data based on the Boomer generation, as at present, only one-third of marriages end in divorce, and even less if only first marriages are counted.

I couldn’t help but notice the contrast of the Christian social circle to which my wife and I belonged when we were first married with a secular social circle that was in the newspaper recently. The Christian social circle of about 10 couples has not seen a single divorce; in fact, there have only been two divorces of which I have heard among the extended set of couples that are one-step removed from the original core circle.

Whereas the secular circle of six couples that were recently written about in a British newspaper has been completely broken apart; all six of the couples ended up divorced in their late 40s and early 50s after an average of about 20 years of marriage.

I was blindsided when my wife divorced me, then the same happened to all my male friends.

It’s pretty clear that the wives are mostly ending the marriages over relatively petty dissatisfactions with life rather than abuse, infidelity, or anything particularly serious. One woman described her regrets five years after ending her marriage; she even says that she’d abandon her current boyfriend and go back to her husband in an instant if he would have her.

My impetus for pressing the self-­destruct button on my 15-year marriage was a lot more mundane than that. I was dissatisfied, insecure and worn down by what I perceived as the drudge of my life and I lost my temper with him once too often.

But five years ago, with three daughters under ten and chronically ill parents, life was unrelenting. There were times in my early 40s when I wondered what on earth I had done to deserve such a life.

As a stay-at-home mum my life ran on a constant loop of school run, chores, seeing my parents, school run, clubs, cook, bath and bed – repeat. Occasionally, I'd get to go to the gym and, even more rarely, to have a coffee with my girlfriends.

Meanwhile, Lawrence went to work and saw his friends afterwards if it suited him, only helping out with chores and play dates at the weekends and – the one thing I really took umbrage with – had created a mancave at home, just for him.

That 10ft x 13ft space, filled with his books, computer games and boys' toys came to represent everything I resented about the 'unfairness' in our relationship. Why did he get to have a sanctuary away from the responsibilities of parenthood and running our home when I was the one shouldering the vast majority of the burden?

Over the years, what began as an in-joke between my girlfriends built into a constant simmering resentment, further fuelled by their own stories of husbands not doing their fair share. Yet I never addressed it with him – something I now bitterly regret.

All I remember was feeing constantly tired, stressed, guilty and resentful. I was short with the girls and even shorter with Lawrence.

On one cold Sunday morning in January, when he'd left his mug near the dishwasher instead of putting it inside the machine, I let rip.

It all came out: what a selfish father he was, spending hours in his mancave; that he never lifted a finger in the kitchen; how underwhelming he was in bed. Actually, he wasn't. If anything I was the underperformer, constantly finding excuses not to get intimate and, when we did do it, actually ­willing it to be over so that I could get some sleep.

I saw him wince, yet, seeing red, I carried on, shouting that we weren't even husband and wife, we were just partners bringing our children up. I then uttered the words I really wish I hadn't: 'We should just call it quits. I want someone better than you!'

By the time I had finished spewing out my awful tirade, I crumpled to the floor, where I promptly burst into tears. I assumed that, just like the other occasions when I'd had a ­monumental meltdown, Lawrence would kneel down and give me a soothing hug. Not this time. He walked out of the room.

That night, he went to stay at his mum's house and, after calling him throughout the night with no reply, the following day an email arrived telling me that I was right, we should call it quits.

Apparently, life was too short to walk on eggshells around me. He could never predict when I would erupt, scorching everything around me then expecting it all to be forgiven in a heartbeat.

Although Lawrence considered me a great mother, his rating of me as a wife was pretty poor and he'd had enough.

NEWSFLASH: The 44-year-old mother of three was not able to replace the man she’d landed in her late 20s with someone better than him. For some reason, this actually surprised her.

The 25-year-old version of a woman is almost always going to attract a higher-quality man than the 50-year-old version. This is not rocket science, but apparently, it is beyond the capacity of most 40-something women seeking divorce to understand.

One thing that is clear from the woman’s account is that once she crossed the red line, external forces in the form of other women living vicariously through her tended to push her further along the path on which she’d set herself than she had ever intended. Rather like less-attractive friends encouraging their prettier friend to cut her hair, many women will encourage a dissatisfied wife to blow up her marriage.

Also, female solipsism tends to render women unable to discern that her husband may well be as unsatisfied as she is, and, of course, the average man is much less likely to express his feelings than the average woman. Which explains the shock of the wife who expects to be talked off the ledge and instead finds herself being pushed in the back by the very hands she expected to help her return to safety.

Careful what you wish, careful what you say.
Careful what you wish, you may regret it.
Careful what you wish, you just might get it.

Obviously, under the current legal regime, there is nothing a man can do if his wife intentionally blows up his marriage, whether it is in pursuit of her lost youth, getting her groove back, or sex tourism in Jamaica. But as I always advise, don’t necessarily take what a woman says too seriously, especially in moments of high emotion.

Find something else to do, find somewhere else to be for a few days, and then see where things are. Divorced or not, you’re going to be tied to the woman anyhow, so there is no need to rush things or match emotion for emotion. And if you’re a Delta or better, you have to know that even if things are over, you’re probably going to come out ahead in the long run.

So relax, go do something you’ve always wanted to do while giving her a week or so to calm down and come back to her senses. Don’t do anything that would further escalate the breakdown; don’t contact any ex-girlfriends or explore any opportunities with other women, but have a good time with no concerns for your responsibilities for her, for the children, or for anyone else. It won’t do anyone any harm, and it will prevent you from committing yourself one way or another in the heat of the moment.

Nearly every single woman I’ve ever known has said absolutely horrible things to her boyfriend or husband at one time or another, things that would have gotten her punched in the face if she was a man. So don’t ever delude yourself and imagine that things are going to be different with any other woman. No matter how nice she is, sooner or later her emotions will get the better of her and she will focus her ire on the nearest and safest available target, her husband.

Anyhow, this is yet another reminder of the intrinsic eucivilizational superiority of Christian culture. Whether it is the concept of Man being fallen, the principle of forgiveness, or the fear of Divine judgment, a Christian woman is far more likely to refrain from the temptations to blow up her marriage than a non-Christian woman.