Contrary to what a second comment on the Royal Family might infer, I am not obsessed. I honestly only dipped into the whole Kate Kerfuffle this last week. Though, full transparency, I have watched all of The Crown (love me some Olivia Coleman). So.
Whether Kate’s health situation is fine or not (hoping she’s good, betting she’s lying low not doing her hair), or if there is some nefarious conspiracy surrounding her whereabouts, neither is the element that has been oddly occupying my mind this weekend. It’s William. And Rose.
Because I don’t follow Royal news much, I had no idea that there have been rumors of an affair between Prince William and Lady Rose Chumly (is all I have the strength to call her) since 2019. That the gossip is re-surfacing right now, that Stephen Colbert spilled the tea, and that some are calling it the “soft launch” of Lady Rose, well it weirdly bothered me. Weirdly in the sense that I am aware Royal gossip is typically just tabloid garbage, and celebrity infidelity news comes and goes on the internet and I pay it no mind, but this was wiggling in my mind all weekend.
via @sainthoax
And maybe I should level-set that I have friends who have cheated and friends who have been cheated on, and I know that there are no easy answers and not many black and white situations. I don’t judge it all under one moral banner, life is too grey and craggy for that. I have seen relationships both saved and dashed in these scenarios, but mostly, lessons that have been learned.
But of course I know why it bothers me, because of Diana. And because of me.
I have assumed that William, who grew up in the turmoil of his parent’s marriage—amidst the long and winding Charles+Camilla affair that would ultimately end it—would somehow … be better. That he would NOT choose to follow that same path, that he would honor the pain he witnessed. As he had a first-hand view of the hardship and emotional toil that stole so much from his mother’s life, how could he not have entered into a marriage with foresight of consequences: Very public, very messy, very depressing consequences.
I realized that I needed to believe this about William, because I needed to believe it about my own humans. The infidelity that ended my marriage didn’t just break my heart, it broke all of us. My ex didn’t just leave home, he basically burned down the house of our lives. None of us are naive about what is at stake when you pledge yourself to another human and agree to build a life together.
I’ve always assumed that if one of my humans cheated on their significant other, I’m pretty sure I would be incandescent with rage. Just: Really? After all that, we’re doing this again? But, is that fair? It turns out that based on a 2017 study on intergenerational patterns, of the kids who grew up with parents who cheated, 33% were also cheaters. One third is not an inevitability, it’s just more common than I personally believed. Why am I so shocked?
One of my friends last week was so unfazed by the Lady Rose rumors that she quipped something to the tune of: Well look at his father, and his father’s father, it’s practically a rite of passage in a closed loop of a family that we can never really know. Another friend reminded me that these are not normal people we are talking about, they are forced to play out a very produced public life of perfect hats and pressed smiles, which takes a toll on the human self. Of course I know it’s absurd to be having personal feelings about any of this Habsburgian mess! I just felt disappointed.
And what I’m assuming of him may not be true at all. On Saturday, Rose’s people released a statement denying the rumors. And if there is no evidence, and nothing comes of it, then I’ve wasted a weekend in my head. Well, maybe not wasted.
When I unpack myself at the end of each day, I look for the lesson. Especially if there’s pain. If you’ve survived something, a crappy marriage, a horrible workplace, a life-altering disease, you come out the other side with knowledge, armor, perspective. And the best and worst of all things: hope.
I need the pain to have meant something more than just life static, a storm weathered. I need for it to have lifted us to a better understanding, transformed us so that intergenerational fuckery can be stopped here. Now. And yet, at the same time I am continually reminded that we are roiling and toiling humans, as we tumble off in our own directions facing completely different challenges. That need may just be my own.
Not only should I not expect some kid across the ocean to have learned the same lesson, I shouldn’t expect anyone else. Maybe grace is the punctuation at the end of any lesson learned. As far as my own humans, we can live through whatever comes, because we already have.
The ride is the ride. I’m just grateful that we all agree to keep getting on.
I thought about your comment about GRACE being the punctuation that we learn at the end of the lesson. Thank you. It’s so hard to express difficult feeling sometimes without appearing mean. And grace is what we should lean into. Sorry for your past heartbreak but thank you for sharing. It helps many of us. R