Forgive me Father..
I haven't written a story about a number in a while. This story is the one story that I thought I would never tell. This is the story of #61 and the scarlet letter he wore.
Pause: One of my friends, code name messiah, said that he read my blog, and he could see the therapy in it. Anyone who writes will tell you there's a small amount of therapy inside of every blog, poem or story. I am rarely ashamed of anything I do. Even when I am slightly embarrassed, I write it down anyways, and that has always proved to be the best policy for me. This is the one story that I whisper instead of screaming from the mountain tops. This is the story about which I pray, and the story that I beg karma not to seek revenge.
I had an affair with a married man.
I'm going to give you the scenario, and reasons as to why and how this happened. In no way, shape, or form are my actions excusable, but there's a story involved nonetheless.
I knew #61 before he had gotten married, in fact we met just a couple months before he was supposed to tie the knot. He hit on me when we first met--I scoffed. How dare you try to make me a conquest before you get married? I let him know his actions were unacceptable.
Pause: At this particular time in my life, I was in a different place. I had just gotten out of the relationship with #29. I didn't have a desire for a long-term anything, especially not a relationship. I actively sought out men with girlfriends, and wore the title of side chick with pride. It was the easiest way to get what I wanted with no attachment. I always drew the line with married men though.
We remained cool. He got married. I saw him regularly. Pleasant conversation turned into more personal ones. I talked about the drama from all of my men. He talked about how unsuccessful his relationship with his wife was. He told me he felt like he had been duped--he didn't want to marry her. He was unhappy. His wife cheated with men and women. I listened to the stories because we were now friends. My resolve was strong--we never crossed the line. We never stopped flirting.
Good conversation turned into something more. I needed to talk to him. The visits which were a pleasant surprise previously became part of my emotional sanity. The urgency was real. Without even realizing it, we had entered into an emotional relationship.
Pause: This didn't happen fast, which is why I think my guard was down. By this time, we had been very good friends for more than a year. He knew who I was, and I naively thought that I knew him as well. He said that he wanted to leave her, and the only reason he didn't was because of the kids. I laugh at how righteous I was.
And then it happened. I had a lonely moment. A lonely, horny moment. He had been asking to lick my vagina for months. I always said no.
And then I noticed something inside of my loneliness. I was attracted to him. Just my type, in fact--6'6" 350lbs, works with his hands, hilarious, generous, likes to eat--that means 2 things.
He successfully wore me down. The affair officially started.
Again, there is nothing that excuses my actions. I wish I could take it all back, but even more than that, I wish I could take back how naive I was. I listened to him talk all that shit about his wife, and I fell for it. Instead of accepting my position as the side chick, I tried to make it to main chick status.
Needing him became an obsession. I would call when I wasn't supposed to. I would request to see him when I knew that it wasn't possible. I caused problems that he didn't need inside of the marriage. I was despicable.
Pause: These are hindsight observations. At the time, I didn't think that anything was wrong with what I was doing. He encouraged some things, and facilitated the rest.
Before I new it, the affair had gone on for a year. I thought I was in love. It was extremely dysfunctional.
It came to an end much more abruptly than it started. I call him on New Year's Eve. I needed to hear his voice, angry that I couldn't start my new year with him. He didn't answer. His wife returned my call.
I don't like it when the broads call me, but she had every right. I mean, it was her man after all. I didn't answer any of her questions, but I wasn't very nice either. I don't remember the dynamics of the conversation at this point, but I do know that I said something along the lines of: If you have a problem with me calling your husband, you should talk to your husband about that.
#61 and I never saw or spoke to each other again. I was distraught for a while, and lonely all over again. I really hope that they were able to work it all out. I never wanted to be the cause of the end of a marriage.
So there's my story and me purging all of my sins to all of you. It doesn't change what happened or what I have done. As always, I'm telling this story for that other person who went through the same thing and is too rueful to admit it. I'll carry the weight of this one for you.
Until the next time...
Pause: One of my friends, code name messiah, said that he read my blog, and he could see the therapy in it. Anyone who writes will tell you there's a small amount of therapy inside of every blog, poem or story. I am rarely ashamed of anything I do. Even when I am slightly embarrassed, I write it down anyways, and that has always proved to be the best policy for me. This is the one story that I whisper instead of screaming from the mountain tops. This is the story about which I pray, and the story that I beg karma not to seek revenge.
I had an affair with a married man.
I'm going to give you the scenario, and reasons as to why and how this happened. In no way, shape, or form are my actions excusable, but there's a story involved nonetheless.
I knew #61 before he had gotten married, in fact we met just a couple months before he was supposed to tie the knot. He hit on me when we first met--I scoffed. How dare you try to make me a conquest before you get married? I let him know his actions were unacceptable.
Pause: At this particular time in my life, I was in a different place. I had just gotten out of the relationship with #29. I didn't have a desire for a long-term anything, especially not a relationship. I actively sought out men with girlfriends, and wore the title of side chick with pride. It was the easiest way to get what I wanted with no attachment. I always drew the line with married men though.
We remained cool. He got married. I saw him regularly. Pleasant conversation turned into more personal ones. I talked about the drama from all of my men. He talked about how unsuccessful his relationship with his wife was. He told me he felt like he had been duped--he didn't want to marry her. He was unhappy. His wife cheated with men and women. I listened to the stories because we were now friends. My resolve was strong--we never crossed the line. We never stopped flirting.
Good conversation turned into something more. I needed to talk to him. The visits which were a pleasant surprise previously became part of my emotional sanity. The urgency was real. Without even realizing it, we had entered into an emotional relationship.
Pause: This didn't happen fast, which is why I think my guard was down. By this time, we had been very good friends for more than a year. He knew who I was, and I naively thought that I knew him as well. He said that he wanted to leave her, and the only reason he didn't was because of the kids. I laugh at how righteous I was.
And then it happened. I had a lonely moment. A lonely, horny moment. He had been asking to lick my vagina for months. I always said no.
And then I noticed something inside of my loneliness. I was attracted to him. Just my type, in fact--6'6" 350lbs, works with his hands, hilarious, generous, likes to eat--that means 2 things.
He successfully wore me down. The affair officially started.
Again, there is nothing that excuses my actions. I wish I could take it all back, but even more than that, I wish I could take back how naive I was. I listened to him talk all that shit about his wife, and I fell for it. Instead of accepting my position as the side chick, I tried to make it to main chick status.
Needing him became an obsession. I would call when I wasn't supposed to. I would request to see him when I knew that it wasn't possible. I caused problems that he didn't need inside of the marriage. I was despicable.
Pause: These are hindsight observations. At the time, I didn't think that anything was wrong with what I was doing. He encouraged some things, and facilitated the rest.
Before I new it, the affair had gone on for a year. I thought I was in love. It was extremely dysfunctional.
It came to an end much more abruptly than it started. I call him on New Year's Eve. I needed to hear his voice, angry that I couldn't start my new year with him. He didn't answer. His wife returned my call.
I don't like it when the broads call me, but she had every right. I mean, it was her man after all. I didn't answer any of her questions, but I wasn't very nice either. I don't remember the dynamics of the conversation at this point, but I do know that I said something along the lines of: If you have a problem with me calling your husband, you should talk to your husband about that.
#61 and I never saw or spoke to each other again. I was distraught for a while, and lonely all over again. I really hope that they were able to work it all out. I never wanted to be the cause of the end of a marriage.
So there's my story and me purging all of my sins to all of you. It doesn't change what happened or what I have done. As always, I'm telling this story for that other person who went through the same thing and is too rueful to admit it. I'll carry the weight of this one for you.
Until the next time...
Comments
Post a Comment