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[From Jester: Every so often, I find myself in possession of a story that comes to me from a source outside of my normal circle of blogs. (Shut up, I do too know people outside the PRB!) It happens on occasion that someone I know even tangentially feels the need to get something off their chest in a place where no one knows them or where whatever judgment is cast upon them doesn't seem as terrible. Today's post is one of those occasions. Don't ask me who wrote it, because I won't tell you. Don't ask me any questions about it, because I don't know the answers. I do know that I will pass along any responses should the author wish to reply to comments.
If anyone else out there reading this would like a place to post something anonymously, you can contact me via email on my contact page, Instant Messenger as JesterNCal (yahoo or aim), twitter, or telepathically if you have the means to do so.]
Okay. Not sure where to begin with this. I’ve never really told anyone about this mostly because I suppose I didn’t want anyone to know what a hypocrite I am. And a loser. And all the other bad things I can possibly think of myself. But now that I have royally fucked up my life (and yet hardly anyone knows…interesting…) I need to talk about it with people who have no clue who I am. So here goes my post….
He was larger than life. When he smiled at you, your knees became jello and you suddenly couldn’t remember your name. In the moment it took you to recover, he would walk up to you, slide his hand around your waist and say hello, sending you right back into your former state. Handsome, rugged and charming, I knew exactly who he was and what his game was, regardless of what he did to my undergarments. No sir, I wanted nothing to do with this player.
He had been married a long time. Married, I suppose, was really a loose term, though. Each of them had freedom to pursue whatever options they wanted as long as they returned to their shared bed at the end of the day. I found it ridiculous. Preposterous that people would live that way. Cheapen their love and dedication. Cheapen the institution of marriage. I clung to my husband whenever they were around so that there were no misconceptions about our interest in such games. We all became good friends and during a frank conversation, they let us know that they were well aware that we were not interested. Whatever their personal habits, they were good friends and it was nice to feel part of a group again. I found it easy to be my conservative faith-driven self and be accepted for who I was. They all knew I didn’t judge. How could I? Then someone might look at me…and even then, I knew I was no example of a spirit-filled life. My heart believed, but I often made the wrong choices. Probably like most of us.
About a year into our friendship, something happened one evening that made me begin to question everything.
When saying our goodbyes, (let’s call him) Jim wrapped his arms around me and gently bit my neck. I smiled and waved and went home, replaying that moment for the next few weeks. I knew he was “bad”. I knew his habits. I loved my husband and would never. Ever. But he wasn’t around much, and when he was, he was buried in a book or just not emotionally there. I was so lonely and it felt so good to feel that attraction. I tried not to think about it. I tried to just not participate in the flirting. But Jim always found me in the corner and put his arms around me, weakening my resolve.
The first time was almost silly. We had both had too much to drink and found ourselves alone. I berated myself for thinking I could do something like that. That I would jeopardize my marriage and my family by being unfaithful. I was sick at the thought of what my husband would think. But he didn’t notice any changes in me. He didn’t know. In fact, I don’t think he realized I was there most of the time. All justifications, I know. And so we continued. For a year.
His wife knew about most of it. In fact, she was involved several times. She approved the involvement until he began spending more time with me than with her. Then she cut it off abruptly. We tried to abide, but were unable to distance ourselves from one another. I think that’s when the countdown began.
The end came, as we knew it would, after a weekend away. We had managed to escape our families and spend a blissful four days alone together. This was to be a goodbye, in my mind. I would fade away and stop calling. Stop visiting. Stop being anything to him. Our relationship had deepened exponentially and we freely admitted loving one another. This might very well kill me, I thought. Neither of us would ever leave our spouses, however, and there was just no point to our relationship. I was so sure I would be a fling. Just another one of his women. It would have been easier. I begged him to get back to his regular games and break my heart so I could just be through with him. But he wouldn’t. He saw no one else the year he was with me. There were moments…only moments…when we almost spoke out loud what we might be willing to do in order to be together. But the reality was what it was and our time needed to end. Our drive home was quiet and tearful. We said goodbye, promising to be friends. Just friends.
I found myself unrecognizable. I had developed habits of lies and betrayal for no purpose other than to be devastated when it all (predictably) came to an end. The tragedy of forbidden love and the reality that I really didn’t like myself anymore have come together, bringing me where I am now-on my knees. I used to be the “good” one. The happy, friendly and non-judgmental person who loved everyone and believed that every person deserved respect and caring. I finally liked myself.
And now?
My dearest friend doesn’t understand why I can’t be at her home. Because I am in love with her husband. And he with me. I find myself trying to reconnect with my own husband and see in him all the things that Jim was to me. There are rumblings in our circle about the nature of our relationship. It’s quite possible they might get back to my husband. More than anything, I am a blubbering mess and can’t tell anyone why I am so crushed. Why I am so unworthy of any caring or respect. Why I should just disappear.
I know what I’ve done. I deserve what I get. I’ve lost a love. I don’t know where to go from here. I guess I’m just lost. Doing the right thing would have been much easier had I done it from the beginning.
-Unfaithfully Anonymous
