shame, fighting thereof

For the record, Pinky/Peabrain was the other person in my triad marriage (1981-1989). He's the one who announced that he wanted a monogamous relationship, ideally with a young (blonde and busty) Jewish girl, but who left us for a brunette ex-Catholic divorcee (who, about five years later, unilaterally opened their monogamous relationship, then left him for another man; she left that man about five years after marrying him, too).

Among other things, when Pinky first went out with his ex-wife, he lied to her about our relationship: "Oh, Mark and Velma are just my apartment-mates, and they're engaged." That was a violation of one of the few rules we had as a triad: that we would never deny the relationship.

However, when I found this out (a few years later) and told him I was furious, he said, "Well, she knew I was lying anyway, so it didn't -- and doesn't -- matter; you can't hold it against me."

Guess what? I did, and I still do. He lied, because he thought it would be convenient for him, and because a vow made to me didn't matter.

I'm talking about this now, in part because I've always been ashamed to talk about the relationship with him. And I'm tired of pretending that I'm on good terms with him, and that we're good friends, when I'm only called when he needs something, whether it be someone to boast to, someone to bitch and moan to, or someone to do him a favor.

And maybe, by taking this somehow-shameful-to-me relationship out in the light, and letting other people see it, I can see it more clearly, and get a different perspective on where the shame, if there is any, belongs.

And then I can put it down, and stop bearing it as part of the baggage I carry in life.

I'd like to do that.