I don't think there's been a single time in my life that I've truly regretted, in the long run, denying myself. Only indulging myself, and that regret lasts a very long time.
When we reunited 30 years ago after a post-high-school hiatus in our relationship, there were primarily two things that mattered most to me, though I was unaware of both of them. One I shall not share in this forum, or at least in this post. The second was being "better than," and I didn't understand that about myself at all. I'm sure this is only a small part of where this superiority/inferiority complex came from (it's always both, btw), but since I was never good enough for my dad - not an athlete, too wimpy - being the smartest became my downfall. I had to be the quickest wit, get in the last word, win the argument. I was pretty competitive, too.
My poor wife was the perfect foil in this for me. She met my first need, but was particularly suited to my second, since barring some tragedy I'll always be the "more intelligent" of us. I was still very emotionally needy, too, and when I'd connect with someone else - especially a woman - on an intellectual or emotional level that my wife wasn't equipped to meet, as far as I was concerned it was her problem to deal with. I indulged my intellectual and emotional "needs" and left her to deal with it on her own or, worse, put her down so that I could feel validated.
The thing is, she needed affirmation, too, and she obviously wasn't getting it from me. So of course, she found it where she could, and of course, that became a vicious cycle for us.
I hoped that we were beyond that now, but I also know that our greatest fear is of the thing that brought out the worst in ourselves. I guess no number of years (decades) of finally loving her as I should will ever erase the shadows of my former selfish indulgence.
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