by John Dryden
Why should a foolish marriage vow,
Which long ago was made,
Oblige us to each other now
When passion is decay'd?
We loved, and we loved, as long as we could,
Till our love was loved out in us both:
But our marriage is dead, when the pleasure is fled:
'Twas pleasure first made it an oath.
If I have pleasures for a friend,
And farther love in store,
What wrong has he whose joys did end,
And who could give no more?
'Tis a madness that he should be jealous of me,
Or that I should bar him of another:
For all we can gain is to give our selves pain,
When neither can hinder the other.
R, marriage is a work in progress. It's all about holding each other's hand and making sure that the other person is secure and loved and happy. This will pass but you've got to make her feel that she is the only one. It'll take time but you will get there. Believe you me. Your daughter do not deserve any of this. Pick up the pieces and move on. We are here.
R, please don't think that you're at fault because you are not. You have a very good soul. How I wish all girls are like you. You've got to move on too. We are here.
Haaaay. Been there, been that. If only wives can be more trusting and husbands can be more honest, this world will be a better place to live in, don't you think?
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