Pistanthrophobia. Now there’s a mouthful.
It means, “fear of trusting someone.” Stumbled upon the word the other day — can’t remember precisely where I read it — and it’s apparently a thing. It’s even listed in Urban Dictionary, so you know it MUST be real…
I was curious about the origin of the word and came up empty-handed, but the root — pis — has definite fishy connotations: Pisces, piscary, piscine, piscivorous, etc. Maybe someone’s un-trustworthiness smells like rotting fish. A warning to stay away.
The word, of course, stirred up memories of B. and all the times we trusted each other. He has no reason to suffer pistant… oh, whatever; I’ve always been truthful with the man. Probably up to a fault.
But me? I’m one big quivering mass of pistanthrophobia. Who knows how long he had really been fucking that other woman before he admitted it to me? How many other times over 26 years did he lie? Was I a fool to have taken him at his word?
Yes, I surely was.
I look back on the past with immense sadness and regret that I trusted a man who was not worthy of my trust. And after close scrutiny born of pain I see more clearly the signs and symptoms of his mis-deeds and chicanery lo those many years we were lovers. Unfortunately, I never got a whiff of rotting fish.
Can one learn to trust again?
A former mistress (26 years, on-and-off) describes the good, the bad, and the ugly of her long-term affair. Conclusion: Affairs aren't necessarily destructive if kept in the correct perspective. Our experience enhanced BOTH our marriages.
That is, until his marriage ended and we began to love each other. When the affair morphed into a relationship, well, that's when it stopped being fun for me. We have now irrevocably split.
Lately I've been writing about the man who took his place in the "off" years of that 26-year-long affair. He was a dynamic sexual partner but we, too, now have irrevocably split.
These are our stories.