This is the day I met R. My lover. He’s not my husband.
I met R. Online. The cheaters’ way. This is seriously seedy and yet our beautiful story started there. It’s beautiful to me, it won’t be to many. I own it. I’d been with my husband fora very long time when I signed up. I signed up in a moment of madness, alone, feeling misunderstood and neglected. Classic midlife crisis stuff. The story isn’t starting nicely and I won’t try to embellish it. I also will refrain sharing personal details of my relationship with my husband as this, here, is about something else.
I had never cheated by the time I went online, not even a kiss. But I had thought about it. Quite a bit. That time I thought, I think I will. A force that pushed me to do the unthinkable, me, who had been such an angel throughout life.
But I digress. I remember vividly Rs and Is first text interaction. From the get go, he felt special. He was the only man I messaged with, who, at the same time infuriated me by leaving my picture message unanswered for an entire day, and redeemed himself in spades with the most exquisite follow-up exchange. I was excited to meet him on a date, me who’d never been on dates before. He had this magnetism and this aura I felt was irresistible. We’d done some basic sexting and I was feeling a pulling connection I couldn’t recognise. I knew he’d be trouble somehow. He showed up fifteen minutes late, gracious like a pauper prince, lovely and apologetic. I’d like to describe in detail to you but this wouldn’t be fair to him. Let’s say, the waitresses couldn’t take their eyes off him, and neither could I. It was intense, immediate, complete attraction.
He sat down and we started talking. I was in the best form of my life looking every inch as good as my pictures so we both were at the top of our game, and evidently, within a few minutes, very into eachother. The conversation was effortless. Pure magic. We matched eachother in wit and smarts; I overshared to impress, he pulled me up on it but I never worried it could lead me to trouble. He was feeling like a trustworthy old friend, despite the circumstances. We couldn’t believe our luck. How attracted we were to eachother, body and mind as it were. We effortlessly were making fun of the silly cocktail names we were drinking, and would have wanted this moment to last. Much. Longer. But we only had a short booking and soon had to leave. We walked up the tiny staircase, me strutting my stuff in front of him. I had another date waiting, what a waste. Disappointed he didn’t kiss me in the dodgy hallway. He was standing at the door and I was still inside. I had imagined we would say bye and I could just go to the other date planned for that night, elegantly. I had said, I’ll take a cab! But he was standing there, sort of waiting and smiling so I burst out laughing, awkward and childish.
Sorry I really can’t lie to you. I dont think you deserve that. I’m not taking a cab, I’m meeting someone.
A friend (lie). I’d love to stay with you but you’d also said you had to head back so now… she’s waiting for me.
He took it like a boss. He looked gorgeously puzzled, sweet and a tiny bit sad. All I wanted was to hug him.
You’re not meeting a friend, are you? You lined up the dates, lady!
I denied. Deny, deny, deny. It wouldnt be the first time.
What a night. I looked at him.
Call me! I said.
I will, he said. He looked sincere. Butterflies hit my stomach.
He left, but he wanted to stay. He had been looking for an opening that hadn’t come. He held that one against me for a long long time. In his impossibly attractive way.
He was smitten and so was I. I left him there in the rain and thought, as I was walking across the street to meet the other guy.
My goodness. Was it as good as I think it was? I think I’m in love. And guess what. I was.