Dear Gianna

Q: My boyfriend has cheated on me many times. I always found out by chance, not because he willingly confessed it to me. Every time, he cried and begged me not to leave him, saying that he only loves me and that the affairs with others mean absolutely nothing. He said it was just a fling, while what we have is special. Indeed, from the outside, our relationship seems perfect—we agree on everything and always support each other. I think it’s not easy to find another person like him. Should I forgive his flings and focus on the fact that our relationship has a thousand other positive aspects?

A: Short answer: no. You don’t "have to" do anything except what makes you happy.

In truth, dear Nadia, I’m afraid I can't tell you what to do, only you can decide that. I can only ask you some questions, trying, in a somewhat Socratic way, to help you come to an answer. Why does being cheated on bother you? Is it because society has conditioned you to think that monogamy is the only right choice, or because you truly, deeply feel heartbroken for having misplaced your trust? Why are you asking yourself if you should stay? Is it because you think leaving would be pointless since another partner might hurt you the same way, or is it because deep down, he makes you happy and his cheating doesn’t bother you except for societal convention?

I want you to first understand what exactly bothers you about his betrayals and then act accordingly. Are you ashamed of your family and friends finding out? Are you afraid of others’ judgment?

Simone de Beauvoir and Jean-Paul Sartre are the perfect example of how a love story doesn’t necessarily have to include monogamy. The writer and the philosopher shared a love that lasted over 50 years, without ever marrying or living under the same roof, exchanging letters where they told each other about their respective affairs. Simone expressed her belief that love is not synonymous with exclusivity: “Man is not a spirit, he is a body, and body means need” (The Second Sex).

In The Things of Love, Umberto Galimberti dedicates an entire chapter to betrayal, writing, “Love is a relationship, not a fusion,” and “Love is not possession […] In a relationship, in ‘us,’ one cannot be buried, like in a tomb; every now and then one has to step out, if only to know who we are without him or her.” With this, I am trying to tell you that having multiple lovers is not inherently wrong. In fact, a study presented by the British Association for Counselling & Psychotherapy has shown that extramarital affairs can benefit the couple. But then, why does it make us suffer so much, make us angry, and lose our minds? Why did Medea, tragically, kill her own children to make Jason, who betrayed her, suffer?

Personally, I believe the answer lies in the etymology of the word “betrayal” itself. From the Latin tradere, meaning "to hand over to the enemies," it indicates the "failure to fulfill the most sacred duties, breaking the faith owed or given, the solemn promises made, and the trust others have in us."

I think what hurts you is that he is not respecting the terms of the unspoken contract you two had.

When you started your relationship, you both took for granted that it would be a monogamous relationship. You have upheld your part of the contract; he has not. And not only that—he didn’t consult you to see if you wanted to revisit these terms; he tried to hide it from you.

Tischner defines fidelity as “the bond that unites man with man, it is an inner bond, initiated by free choice.” According to the philosopher, fidelity corresponds to hope: the faithful one always hopes that the other will be, too. The other can decide whether to meet this request for fidelity or not. However, by breaking this faith, the “betrayer” not only breaks the promise made to the other but also the relationship with themselves. Betraying someone means betraying oneself too.

What does it tell you about your boyfriend that he didn’t value your unspoken agreement? Can you trust someone who fails to honor the terms of your “contract”? Can you be sure he won’t break other promises?

Betrayers are never held up as examples to follow: Judas and Peter are remembered with infamy for betraying Jesus.

Socrates, on the other hand, who preferred to die by drinking hemlock rather than flee to safety, so as not to betray himself, his ideas, and his principles, is praised as a man of integrity and consistency.

In The Divine Comedy, Dante places the traitors of friends and family in the deepest circle of Hell, closest to Lucifer, condemning them to the ultimate punishment of being frozen in the lake of Cocytus.

In short, the problem is not how you will live your love story, but the fact that he allowed you to believe and remain faithful to an agreement that he had no problem betraying, lying to you, and deceiving you.

In my opinion, you have only two options: if you think, truly, deeply, without compromise, that having a non-monogamous relationship is not so bad, talk to him about it. You need to revisit the terms of your agreement. You need to decide if you want to stay together and allow yourselves some flings every now and then. If you, too, want to have extramarital adventures. In short, you need to tell each other the truth, explain what you both expect from this relationship, and respect the new terms you agree on. Only then will it no longer be betrayal, but a relationship whose terms were freely decided by both and make you happy.

On the other hand, if the relationship you want presupposes exclusivity, I think you have no choice but to leave him. Not only because you place different importance on monogamy, but because he didn’t hesitate to do the exact opposite of what he knows is important to you, without caring how it would make you feel. Are you ready to forgive this grave betrayal? I wouldn’t be.

I recommend reading The Unbearable Lightness of Being by Milan Kundera, (click here) where the author explores love, betrayal, and dreams, attempting to show how the heaviness of being (i.e., moral and emotional commitment) is terrible, only to conclude that even lightness (an ephemeral and fleeting shadow) is, in fact, unbearable.