“Marriage is about Loyalty and Betrayal.” … Casual.

It was eight o’clock in Mogoduoro, Portugal, and we were ready for dinner. We’d been foiled a few times by so-called “cafes,” which, as far as we could tell, were places that sold nothing but espresso, ice cream cones, and cigarettes. We felt hopeful about this particular establishment because its tables were fully set and the windows declared something about “pinxos.” But here, in this brightly lit, smoke-filled bar where the Super Bock beer flowed into tiny glasses, we wouldn’t be eating.

Instead we met Carlos, a soft-spoken linguist who spends his free time tutoring recent immigrants in Portuguese and English, and Sylvia. Sylvia is an eccentric woman. Displeased with her sister’s husband, she moved back to her hometown of Mogoduoro after six years in England. She has plans to open a hostel where she can be a loving, spiritual refuge for free-spirited travelers. 

Cigarette in hand, she philosophized about love and Gaia. I asked her, “what do you think about marriage?” And she dramatically but earnestly replied, “marriage is all about loyalty, and betrayal.”

Casual.

For Sylvia, betrayal doesn’t mean the typical things like cheating on your partner. Monogamy does not enthuse her. Betrayal for Sylvia is something more subtle, more quotidian, and perhaps, more powerful. 

Sylvia’s idea of betrayal is deliberately doing that which you know hurts your partner. Spiteful words, unhelpful actions, verbal jousts. Taking jabs at that tender part where they hurt or feel embarrassed. If we see these slights not as “harmless sarcastic jokes,” for example, but as acts of betrayal, it starts to make sense that the Greek root of the word sarcasm is “to cut flesh.” Another etymological translation is “to strip flesh.” Ouch.

Cast as betrayal, deliberate unkindnesses become breaches of trust and care. I don’t want to betray my partner’s trust, as he has entrusted me with time, secrets, and the small wonderings and wanderings of his heart. So I’m learning how to cradle his vulnerability instead of exploit it. It is a daily undertaking to choose kindness, build trust, and hold my tongue.