It began so innocently; a furtive glance here, a touch that lasted slightly too long. I didn’t know how far we had gone until it was too far to let go. It was ok when it was all in my head, it wasn’t wrong then because no one was getting hurt. But now, it’s a different story. Actual people could face irreparable, life changing, shit because I couldn’t help myself, couldn’t resist pushing it that bit further. Is this how all affairs start? I don’t think anyone intentionally sets out to have an affair, not something that’s beyond a one nighter anyway. I think if I was the one it was happening to I’d rather it was one night. You can forgive that. But developing a relationship, then it evolving into sex. It’s a whole different ballgame. I keep trying to pinpoint the moment it crossed into something more than friendship. It was so insidious, but so… ugh, exciting is what it was, new, the unknown! I have no excuses really, even though I keep trying to come up with them. Now the problem is that I care more about the fact I am having a good time, than how many people will be hurt if we carry on. Now the really awful part, yes, there is a more awful part than what I’ve already said. I don’t even want anything more than this, I don’t want a relationship with this person, I’m not sure I would even like them outside of this clandestine affair! I couldn’t imagine curling up with them at the end of a long day, or them dealing with a real problem I was having. They’d never understand my family dynamics, and I’d never introduce them to my family. I don’t want them to see me when I’m sad, or angry, or deliriously happy. I don’t want to share a life with them. So what’s the point in it. What’s the point of any of it? Why am I having an affair? What am I gaining from it if I don’t want it to go further? Well what I’m gaining I guess is just what it is. Moments suspended from reality with no pressures. I don’t need to get up and do the washing, watch something that doesn’t interest me. We don’t need to plan who is going to cook the tea tomorrow night, pick up the shopping, hoover the stairs. There’s no reality in it, it’s just what it is. Two people, coming together and escaping their reality for a hour here and there. Why is it so bad! Well, it’s not bad per se, not the act, not the relationship – if you can call it that. It’s the implications of what it would do to other people if they knew. It’s the wife or husband at home, the children, the cats and dogs, the rabbits, the families beyond the nuclear family you are destroying every time you meet and have that hour removed from reality.
“Are you finished with that spreadsheet?”
“What?”
“I need to take it to a meeting with me”
“Oh right, sure, let me just save it”
I laugh to myself as I finish up what I’m doing. Spreadsheets are so boring I played out a whole affair story in my head while I was working. That’s what binge watching Desperate Housewives does to you!
Aspiring Writer 