My affair started early, close to 7 years ago. It started when my marriage to my husband was still relatively young; we were young and marriage was gawked at with gleaming doe eyed eagerness. Eager to begin our happily ever after, to write our names and our love story in the stars. But that innocent eagerness in those doe eyes morphed into resentment and disappointment for I did not take equal responsibility for the dysfunction in my marriage and my marriage was not as blissfully effortless as the fairy tales conveyed. Easily paving the way for a stroll down Affair Avenue.
It began soon after the “honeymoon stage” ended in my marriage, it was a relatively normal morning; Woke up, fixed breakfast for Donald and the baby, cleaned up kitchen, cleaned up baby, planted a quick, void of emotions kiss on husband’s lips as he went out the door headed to work.
AnnMaria and I went into town and while aimlessly wandering around Wal-Mart we ended up in the book/magazine aisle and that’s where I met him..
I tried desperately to evade his overpowering aura, to act as if he didn’t exist. I told myself lies, “you’ve got a baby, you’re damaged goods.” and “you are so unattractive now and you don’t even know how to flirt anymore.” He disagreed. He earnestly made me aware by his body language and the way he longingly looked in my direction, professing his attraction to me unapologetically,
“You’re beautiful.” he offered the compliment nonchalantly as if he thought I heard it daily. It was as if I had slammed into a newly placed brick wall, I was so preoccupied with the daily in and outs of motherhood and a unfulfilling marriage that I had become completely unaware that I even existed, a heightened sense of self peaked instantaneously and his approval became my new addiction.
He was everything that Donald was not; intellectual, charming, doting, athletic, and patient to name a few things. He never rushed anything, holding my emotions and body as if I was a delicate snowflake, fearful of causing me to melt too quickly before being able to observe my complex, diverse beauty. Constantly caring if I was happy and always telling me to “Smile.” To smile with him was effortless as the sun shining and warming the skin on a summer’s day. Both of us being competitive in sport and wit led to many matches in which we both came out the victor, gaining even more confidence in our abilities to woo the other. Heartbreakingly he would ask me to stay when I could no longer for mom guilt was heavy on my shoulders.
It was on and off again for a few years. I would come to my senses and strive to make my marriage whole again, exhausting all my resources on my husband and his happiness feeding myself the lie that if he’s happy, I’m happy. Consequently I would run out of steam and become cold and my lover would magically reappear, warming me back up, bringing me back to life. I would have died a thousand deaths just so he could bring me back to life, to feel his soft as silk lips against mine, his breath becoming my own. To melt in his hands, surrendering myself as a sacrifice for his god of pleasure.
What finally put that affair in the grave was uncovering that my lover was not my own, in fact, he was every married woman’s.
You see ladies, there is no perfect husband, your husband is human and to err is human. Therefore love your imperfect human husband in all his shortcomings and faults and instead of honing in on his imperfections, use that same energy to discover those unknown gems that he has hiding beneath the surface grit and grime. I have found those same attributes that my fantasy lover had, in my actual, tangible husband. I just had to shed the cookie-cutter wife image and put on a miner’s attire and get to digging and the gems that I’ve unearthed are breathtakingly handsome and priceless. Lastly, Donald doesn’t want me to die a thousand deaths so he can bring me back to life, he only asks me to live this one life with him and that my friends, speaks volumes.