He Cheated, Lied, and Gaslit Me… So Why Can’t I Leave？

Being betrayed by infidelity and dishonesty is devastating. Has this happened to you? What makes it so bewildering is that betrayal can creep into relationships that otherwise seem to be thriving. You love each other, you get along well, maybe you each have children or blended families and everyone gets on. You appear to have built a family around your partnership. Friends admire you as a great couple. Yet once deception enters the picture and you’re lied to, that disrespect can corrode everything good you’ve created — whether others notice it or not. Is it possible to repair that and find happiness again?
Today’s letter comes from a woman who’ll be called Marley. She writes, “Dear crappy childhood fairy, I need relationship advice. I’ll mark things I want to revisit on a second read, but here’s what’s going on in my life.” She explains, “I’ve been with a man for almost five years, but the past two years have been emotionally brutal. Some background: my parents divorced when I was six, and my dad largely withdrew from me and my younger sister. We had little contact. That absence allowed a family friend to take advantage of me from ages nine to sixteen.” (She implies sexual abuse.) “He’s since died. My relationship with my mother was very strained; looking back I see she was depressed after the divorce and simply let things fall apart. I’m 44 now, our relationship is repaired, she’s no longer depressed and is supportive in many ways. I forgive her for losing her way. My relationship with my dad is okay but infrequent and not deep. This letter is about my current relationship.”
She goes on, “There’s a 16-year age gap, but we were close friends for twelve years before becoming romantic. Our children — now in their late teens from previous relationships — grew up together. We shared many good times, common interests and a spark. We got together five years ago and it was wonderful; nobody was surprised, we seemed perfectly matched. The first two years were blissful. Then an old female friend of his visited. That week everything shifted. He didn’t contact me all week even though we lived separately. On the fifth day of her visit, I went to a bar with friends to hear live music and they walked in together; she passed right by me. He came over, we exchanged some heated words, and then he went back to sit with her. That should have been enough to end it. He humiliated me in front of our mutual friends and kept drinking with her until three in the morning. I went home and cried. To this day he defends his behavior that night. I felt betrayed. There was no warning — our relationship had been lovely. After that night a few things happened: he deleted all messages between them and claims he doesn’t know what they said or why they were removed. The day she left, we went to a different town together and I’d forgotten my phone; he refused to let me use his to message my daughter. He even threatened to pull over on the motorway to stop me using his phone. Later I asked him to call her in my presence and request she resend the messages; he promised, yet phoned her when I wasn’t there. I found a hairband in his room that wasn’t mine and a huge pink fluffy towel I’d never seen before, plus other small clues suggesting he’d cheated. I was heartbroken. We’ve been having on-and-off conversations for about two years. It seems obvious to me, but he wants to draw a line under it. For me, trust is gone. I’ve worked hard to mend things, but it feels like his responsibility, not mine. We still have good moments, but they’re getting fewer. I just can’t move past this betrayal.”
She adds, “Four months after that visit I discovered he had a pornography addiction. He admitted it and said it would stop. I believed he reduced it at times, but it didn’t end. My spirit, self-worth and confidence were shattered. He used to be loving, generous and considerate, but now he’s often mean and moody — I think that’s guilt. We tried to move forward, but that initial spark has vanished. We say we love each other and we’re close in some ways; we’ve been in each other’s lives so long and live in a small town. Can we recover from this? How? We talked about therapy, but he said it was too expensive. I bought your book, but he stumbled at the first step. Daily practices weren’t something he committed to. He also has clear childhood trauma — his parents’ divorce, his dad’s deep depression and later death — and hasn’t healed from it. I swear he’ll take his secret to the grave rather than admit he cheated. I have very good friends, steady work, and a peaceful home with my 17-year-old daughter. This part of my life hurts. I want closure. I know closure isn’t always what it seems, but everything feels so unresolved.”
This is a truly painful situation. The relationship was nearly five years long, with the last two years marked by betrayal, dishonor and humiliation that were never properly addressed, yet you stayed. Your childhood history is heavy: parental divorce at six, a father who basically disappeared, and abuse by a family friend from ages nine to sixteen — that’s profound trauma and not something to dismiss lightly. There was no mention of whether you ever received help for that early abuse — therapy or other healing — but that kind of harm requires enforced silence from a child and leaves deep, long-lasting wounds. It teaches a child to conceal pain, to tolerate boundaries being violated, and shapes expectations about what is acceptable in adult relationships.
Your repaired relationship with your mother is a blessing, yet it’s also true that she neglected and failed to protect you when it mattered most. The timeline of abuse from nine to sixteen is long and it’s painful to accept that other adults likely saw signs and failed to act. Society often slips into denial when confronting widespread harm — people claim they didn’t notice, couldn’t cope with the truth, or worry admitting it would make them a bad parent or teacher. Recovering the ability to recognize and name what happened, and to stop minimizing it, is essential. As adults we tend to repeat familiar patterns from childhood until we consciously change them. The emotional habit of tolerating neglect can keep someone in harmful situations as if that was the only option.
Regarding your partner: when someone who once seemed loving changes into a person who hides, avoids honesty and behaviors that humiliate you, that’s a profound rupture. You didn’t create this break; he did. You’ve carried the weight of trying to repair it, giving him chances to be honest, to go to therapy, to follow through on promises. He didn’t. You’re now deciding whether to keep pretending the mystery will resolve itself or to accept that the “good thing” that once existed has been effectively destroyed.
Many people remain in compromised relationships for practical reasons — housing, fear, habit — but you sound strong: you’ve created a peaceful home with your daughter, and it would be a powerful example to not tolerate this behavior. There are practical supports mentioned in the original message — a free daily practice course offering techniques to calm triggers, a QR code or links — all offered as resources to help manage emotional turmoil quickly.
It’s striking how someone can shift so dramatically from warmth to secrecy and avoidance. That sudden turn could be driven by depression, alcohol, drugs, or a pornography addiction. Porn, like substances, functions as an intoxicant and an escape and can create a zombie-like distance from intimacy. Addiction fogs thinking and often coaxes loved ones into rationalizing and minimizing behavior. Trauma explanations can feel tempting to use as a way to forgive or fix a partner, but trauma alone doesn’t excuse sustained dishonesty and avoidance of repair. Many people have histories of trauma but still act honorably; conversely, some use trauma as a shield to avoid accountability.
From what you describe — days of silence during her visit, walking into a bar with another woman, him choosing to sit with her, finding her items in his room, deleting messages, refusing to let you verify communication with your daughter — it strongly points to betrayal having occurred. You gave him time and opportunities to be transparent and to seek help, but nothing changed. Living with someone who keeps a secret life and remains unwilling to be responsible takes a toll, draining spirit and clarity. It creates a constant low-level anxiety, a background hum that prevents feeling free or safe.
Your sense that he’d rather protect his secret than preserve the relationship may be accurate. Some people are more devoted to their means of escape than to the consequences it inflicts on those they love. Recovery is possible in some cases, and relapse happens even for people fully committed to recovery, but the pattern you describe — secrecy, avoidance, refusal to engage with help — suggests he isn’t ready to change.
You asked about closure. Often what people call closure is actually a desire to reopen or reframe the relationship. True closure frequently comes from stepping away, ending contact, and allowing the wound to heal rather than pursuing a final conversation that might only prolong hope. For those with attachment wounds, clean, decisive endings are often healthier and easier to maintain than prolonged, ambiguous relationships. A partner who lies, gaslights, or emotionally drains you is not acting like a friend; friends don’t undermine your wellbeing.
Think about the message staying would send to your daughter. Would her model of a relationship be one in which a woman diminishes her spirit to accommodate a partner who treats her badly? You have a support network, steady work and a peaceful home — there’s a real chance for a happier life if you choose it. You’ve done everything within reason to make it work; he hasn’t. The next two years could be devoted to your own healing and happiness instead of trying to salvage something that’s been broken.
There are practical steps to consider: therapy for yourself, daily practices to manage triggers, memberships or groups for support, and 12-step options like Al-Anon or groups for partners of sex addicts if that fits your partner’s behavior. Explore literature and resources about partners of addicts and reflect on patterns that led you to this relationship and why it feels so hard to let go. Remember the wise line that when someone shows you who they are, believe them. You’ve already given him time; consider letting the next chapter be about your wellbeing.
Sending compassion to Marley and to everyone struggling with similar pain. Healing is possible; with clarity and support, there can be peace and happiness on the other side of this decision.