Getting used to last minute plan changes

Tonight we were supposed to get together again.  This was her second night away from home, her second week back to work.  And he cancelled.  On my way home from work.  I’ve had an exceptionally hard day at work on the tail of two weeks of really bad days.  I was looking forward to spending an evening with him rather than another lonely night at home.

The weather has been cold today and we’ve had snow flurries off and on all afternoon, but it hasn’t accumulated and the roads are clear.  He has deadlines and projects at work he needs to get caught up on as well as presentations to perfect and complete, but his work is always hectic and he’s never able to get caught up without having several other projects handed to him.

He explained his work and safety – the weather – as his reason for us not seeing each other tonight.  He’s asked me to forgive him.  I do, of course, but am still disappointed.  I counted on seeing him and forgetting about my day for a little while.

His wife comes back home tomorrow night, he bowls with a league on Thursdays, then the weekend arrives and we’ll definitely not see each other then.  Our next opportunity will be Monday of next week, but there’s no guarantee.

I want to be with him, but when these disappointments occur it makes me wonder if what I’m doing in this affair is worth the emotions I deal with.  When I imagine never seeing him again, those emotions are even more intense and my heart isn’t able to consider the option.

Waiting for his wife to decide, on her own, to leave the marriage and move out may take longer than I’m willing to wait.  And his “keeping the peace” makes her even less likely to want to leave.  She tells him what to do, how to do it, and when.  They have arguments, but he’s afraid to push her buttons too far because of her volatile reactive personality.

I worry about him being in the home with her there and knowing the stories he’s told me about her anger and outbursts.  Yet can’t reconcile his willingness to stay and take the risk.  Plus, living his life in a miserable, loveless marriage with someone he fears.

There are so many variables in a relationship like ours.  I either understand and accept there will be changes at the last minute or I decide I can and must end my affair with him to protect both of us from the pain of separation and change.

Weekends are not necessarily the hardest

His wife went back to work, finally, last week after having been off from before Thanksgiving.  She works every Monday, Tuesday, and returns home on Wednesday.  Our “new normal” is him spending time with me while she’s away.  Last Monday he spent the night and left the following morning after we’d made love again after my shower.  I had a meeting on Tuesday evening after work so we didn’t spend time together.

Tonight we met for dinner and then came back to my place.  We made love and then sat on the couch talking until she called to check in.

It bothers me to listen to their “normal” conversation, that of a husband and wife, following our time together in bed.  He explains it away as “keeping the peace”, but that only hurts worse.

If he’s unhappy in his marriage, why does he insist on “keeping the peace”?  How does he expect me to believe he wants a life with me when he’s unwilling to do anything to provoke her into leaving?  Why would she ever leave with his financial support and willingness to “keep the peace”?

Yes, they may not still share a bed and sex, but he won’t end things with her.  He claims he’s “trapped”.  I don’t understand that.  I had no means of support, hadn’t worked for 8 years, when I left my husband.  But things were broken between us and there was no way I was willing to remain in our loveless marriage.

Having the chance at a happy life, finding someone to love and who would love me back, was more important to me than remaining in the safety and comfort of the status quo we were existing in.

I want him to want me.  I want him to chose me.  I want him to love me enough to want the chance at a life with me.  But I can’t force that.  I don’t want to.  I want him freely and by choice.

Being apart is hard.  But being together and juggling the emotions of his interaction with his wife on the phone is even harder.

 

 

 

Weekends are the hardest

I’m all in, like I’ve said before!  The more I’ve gotten to know him, the more I’ve fallen in love with him.  I think all the time how I’d love to be able to spend more time with him, date him, be in a real relationship with him.  I don’t want to share him.  I want something horrible to happen to her so she will no longer be a problem, a road block, a hindrance to us having a more normal relationship.

She’s a flight attendant, has been for years, so has seniority and was off from before Thanksgiving until last week.  It was the longest, hardest time I’ve had to face.  She was around, blocking him from being more free to see me.  She demands things from him, chores, things she needs him to do.  In order to keep the peace, his words, he does what she asks.

I find it difficult to understand how he can be so disconnected and unhappy in their relationship, yet he does things to keep her happy and remain safe, again, his words.

She’s been volatile in the past, broken things, thrown things, damaged things he held dear, threatened to jump out of the speeding car on the highway.  He’s frightened of her doing harm to him, using guns they have in the house, and does everything he can to keep her calm and unaware of his dissatisfaction.

He works hard, is in a high-power job, trying to please everyone at work as well as keeping the peace at home.  He’s unhappy in both, doesn’t feel settled or rewarded, feels like he’s accomplished nothing.  He gets down often, questions what he’s done with his life after all the hard work and effort he’s put in.

I want to be able to help, to take away some of the pain, some of the dissatisfaction.  I want to be able to openly love him, care for him, take care of him, appreciate him, let him know how important he is to me.  I can say all of that now, but it’s only words.  I want to be able to put those words into motion, I want him to know beyond doubt what I say is real, sincere, honest, heart-felt.

I try my best to keep busy on the weekend, when he’s home, not working, with her there.  He stays busy during the day doing what he calls “chores”, hauls wood, works in his barn building furniture for their home, keeping occupied so he’s not in her path.  But in the evenings they’re forced to share space.  They watch movies, he says to stay safe, and then retire to different parts of the house.

He sleeps in his recliner downstairs and she sleeps in the bedroom upstairs.  He assures me there is no romance, no sex between them.  I can only trust him.  I have no way of knowing for sure.

Sundays become long.  I have less to do away from home and have more time to think about not being with him, them spending time at the house together, sharing what little they have together.

I’m no one.  If something happened to him, I’d never know.  No one would call me.  No one would think twice about the woman he sees on the side.  I don’t know his address, his wife’s name – he did tell me she didn’t take his last name when they got married.  I don’t know his parents, but I do know where they live.

Being the mistress is hard.  It’s empty most of the time.  I can’t make plans for us.  I can’t count on the plans he talks about for us will actually happen because there’s always the risk something in his real life will come up and prevent us from seeing each other.

He says he wants a life with me.  He wants what we have, a lasting, deep, enduring love. But he also says he needs what he has with his wife to come to a safe conclusion.  There’s no timeline, it’ll happen when and if it does.  And knowing how comfortable it is for her to live off his money, knowing she doesn’t have to work to earn a living, but rather play money, she’ll never leave.  Why would she?

He says he’d be devastated if I decide what we have isn’t enough for me.  If I decide to move on and find someone else.  I believe him, but I know there’s no way to push him to end things with his wife.

I want a life with him, I love him, I want to make up for all the love he’s lacked for so long. I want him to know what an amazing man he is through my eyes.  He’s been beaten down and broken by the women in his life and is afraid to trust  real love exists for him.  I want to show him he’s wrong.  I want to leave no doubt in his heart, in his soul, in his mind that I love him more than he’s ever been loved.

For today, I sit at home, alone.  He’s at home, with her there, doing things around their house.

Falling deeper and deeper

The more time I spent with him, talking, sharing, exploring, the more time I wanted.  I longed for the days, evenings, overnights we were able to be together, when he could get away from home and spend stolen moments with me.

When we were together, I was happier than I’d been in a very long time.  When we weren’t, I lived for our next opportunity.  I wanted to be important to him and I wanted him to want to be with me as much as I wanted to be with him.

It was easy for me to forget we weren’t a couple when we were able to spend time with each other, but when we had extended time apart I remembered  I was an affair and he was married.  When I’d bring this up to him, share my thoughts, he’d get upset.  He didn’t think of me as an affair.  He always said I had his heart, his soul, his love and his love making.

When I asked him why he’d remain in an unhappy, unfulfilling marriage he would explain it away as a convenience.  He’d refer to her as a cook and a maid, not unlike what he’d deal with at a hotel on the road.  She was there to serve a purpose, not for romance or love.

He wanted me to think of him and our relationship as one in which he worked away from home most of the time and would come home when he was able to spend the best of his time with me before leaving again.  I was his love, his romance, his happy place.

He couldn’t understand how I wanted all of that, but more.  I wanted his time, his presence, his warmth in my bed every night.  I wanted to cook for him, prepare his favorite meals, make desserts he loved, take care of his home, show him how much he meant to me.

He didn’t like talking about his wife and his marriage with me.  He didn’t like explaining what they had or didn’t have.  If I asked, he’d get upset.  If he did bring up something that happened between them, I was to listen and not interject.  It was a very difficult path to navigate.  Like a mind field I had to run thru without getting blown up.

He had the best of both worlds.  He had his home, his financial stability, his cook and his maid.  He had me to talk to, share with, love, and make love.

I, on the other hand, was alone and lonely when we weren’t together.  He didn’t want me to see other people, yet didn’t understand how I was jealous of his wife’s having all of his time even if it was strained and unpleasant.

I’d fallen in love with him, in spite of trying to remain disconnected and protect my heart. I knew I risked getting hurt, but I couldn’t help myself.  I was drawn to him and no matter how hard I tried to keep focused on what we had and not what I wanted, I fell harder and harder, deeper and deeper.

 

 

 

 

Confusion

I wanted to see him, as often and for as long as he was able to get away from home.  I enjoyed spending time with him, talking, sharing, getting to know him better.  I felt comfortable in his presence.  I liked hearing him talk and was genuinely interested in what he had to say.

I didn’t understand his need to remain in his unhappy marriage nor the “prenup” that required them to live together during a separation.  He didn’t like talking about it and said it made him sad.  He said it reminded him of his failure which only made me wonder why he still had feelings if things were so broken.

Each time “W2” came up, he’d talk about how she’d alienated their friends, her family, his family, yet he remained in the marriage.  He’d talk about how he’d rebuilt his finances after giving everything away in his divorce from his first wife, the mother of his daughters, and how he didn’t want to lose it all again.

But he’d keep the peace by doing the things she wanted him to.  Said she’d made threats before and he was doing what he had to in order to remain safe.

It confused me, upset me, made me think all I was to him was an affair.  He’d get upset when I’d say that or refer to our relationship as an affair – said I made it sound dirty and he didn’t see us as that.  But what else were we?  He is married, I’m the other woman.  He had no plans to leave her or make her move out.  Claimed they were living together for convenience – she was his cook and maid only.

He said I had his heart, his soul, his love, and his love making.  But what I wanted most was what she had – his time!

This thing that I’m doing

After the Labor Day weekend fiasco, I decided to take a step back and re-access what I was doing with my life.  I missed spending my weekends with the married guy, yet I missed the guy I’d been dating more.  He wasn’t perfect for me and he still had the financial relationship with his female business partner, but I hoped we could overcome what I’d done and meet somewhere in the middle of where we once were and where we were now.

I thought there was a chance for us, but after a short attempt he panicked and decided he couldn’t move forward.  He decided to force a relationship with his business partner for the sake of her money and the business they were going to start.  He ended things with me, abruptly and completely.

I wasn’t looking for someone.  I was wounded and healing.  I was confused.  My divorce was slowly, but surely coming to an end.  I didn’t like spending my days and nights alone, but I didn’t want to be involved with someone wanting a more permanent relationship.  And I definitely wasn’t looking for meaningless sex.

I reactivated my account on a dating site I’d joined early on in my separation.  Not the affair site, but a site for single people.  Yes, there were guys playing games, but I knew that from the first time I was on.  I was going to be cautious, selective, and knew if I didn’t find the “right” one, I’d be okay.  That’s when I met him.

I don’t remember who contacted whom first, but it doesn’t really matter.  The important thing is we met.  We talked, often, and about everything.  It was comfortable and easy and we shared much in common.  I looked forward to seeing his messages and couldn’t wait to respond.

We chatted on the site for a short time and then shifted to email.  We communicated more easily and eventually planned to meet.  I knew he was married, but they were living in a “convenience” relationship.  He talked about a prenup agreement that required them to co-habitate during a separation.  There was a matter of his money and protecting it so she wasn’t able to take half.

We finally met.  And we had a really great time.  He was as interesting in person as he’d been in email, only in person I could see his facial expressions and hear the inflection in his voice.  His personality came through and I was drawn to him.

When we had sex for the first time, I was blown away!  He kissed so well and was tender and passionate all at the same time.  His size, his stamina, exceeded any expectation I’d had.  And I was all in!

The rest of the story

I met several different, interested men I was able to choose from and narrow my field down to 2 or 3 I could spend time with, get to know in-as-much as we were able and willing to share about our personal lives, and who were also living in sexless marriages.

The first man I’ll describe was an instructor in the emergency medical field.  Both of my husbands had been firefighters so I knew the work and could listen and relate to what he was talking about.  He was younger than me by a few years, ex-military, had worked in the field of emergency medicine for a number of years before switching over to teaching and certifying others.  He loved what he did and he loved the fact I was in the medical field and could relate as well as understand what he said.

Our first encounter was a strange one.  I was going to be in the same general area he was going to be in so we decided an impromptu meet.  He’d taught a full day of classes with his mobile rig – a fully functioning, fully equipped ambulance  with life-size mannequins for real-life training situations – and that’s what he was driving.  I parked and waited for him to arrive.  He wasn’t hard to spot.  I got out of my car and approached his rig while he shut things down and got out.  He was not unattractive and he was pleased with my appearance.  We carried on small talk for a few minutes, breaking the ice and calming the first-meet nerves we both were experiencing.  Although we’d talked on the phone several times, exchanged selfies to prove we looked as we claimed, and had been texting for weeks, there was still a degree of tension involved with the very first face-to-face.

After we talked for a while and became more comfortable with each other, things became easier.  He leaned in and kissed me and I enjoyed his kiss very  much.  Kissing is a baseline of mine – good kisser, things will probably be good in bed, bad kisser, everything else will follow suit.  He was likewise pleased and said so.

I asked to see inside the back of his rig.  I wanted to more fully understand his passion and I could tell from talking with him over the past weeks he was proud of the company he had built.  He was more than happy to show it off.  He assisted me up and inside then followed.  He opened cabinets and drawers to show the supplies he carried, showed off the mannequins, described what they did and how they were incorporated in his training and talked about the class he’d taught that day.

We both settled on the stretcher and I let him talk until he was finished.  He took my hand, thanked me for listening and being interested, and then leaned in to kiss me again, only this time the kiss became much more passionate and wanting.  We wrapped our arms around each other and allowed ourselves to succumb to the pent up desire we’d felt building.  Our bodies were in a frenzy and we both knew more was going to happen.

He closed and locked the back doors of the rig, moved to the front and made sure those doors were locked as well, and then we began peeling each other’s clothes off.  We couldn’t get naked quick enough.  Our mouths and hands explored each other while each piece of clothing was tossed to the side.  I lay back on the stretcher and he climbed on top of me.  I gave myself to him and he in turn gave himself to me.

Explosive!  That’s the only word I can use to describe our first sexual encounter.  We’d both been starving for sexual release and when it happened, it was the most incredible thing I’d experienced in a very long time.  We were breathless and spent.  We lay there together, naked, wrapped around each other while our bodies cooled and the pounding of our hearts slowed.  We wanted to see each other again, soon.  We got dressed, got down from the rig, and kissed once more, promising to make time to meet again, before driving off and returning to our homes and our spouses.

Over the course of the next several months, we got together as often as we could. Sometimes he’d get a hotel room, other times we’d have sex in the back of his rig.  Once I went out of town with him for the weekend.  He was teaching a class in the south of the state and it was too far to drive back and forth each night.  We talked quite a bit during the long drive about what our marriages were like and how the relationship we had helped each of us get through the day.

Never once did I worry about him exposing me and he knew there was no way I’d do anything to expose him.  We had a mutually beneficial relationship and neither of us wanted it to end.  We’d become friends along the way and would have missed that as much as the amazing sexual chemistry we had together.

The next man I’ll describe was older than me by several years.  He was a scientist and partially deaf.  He wore Cochlear implants to allow him to hear.  His speech was slightly affected by his loss of hearing and inability to hear correct pronunciations of words.  All of this I found out right before we made arrangements for our first face-to-face.

We’d texted for several weeks and went over the usual background stuff – why we were on the site, why we were willing to cheat, what we both wanted, and the routine need for discretion on both our parts.  We talked about our careers and general interests, hobbies, what we did for fun outside of the whole cheating scene.  We decided there was enough in common to warrant a meet, see if there was a physical attraction, and go from there.

He’d told me about his hearing, but we’d not talked on the phone.  He was self-conscious and didn’t want to turn me away before we had the chance to meet and I was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt.  I’d never before been with anyone like him and I wasn’t sure of my comfort level either.

We met casually.  I was going shopping in the general area he lived and he had been out biking.  We arranged for the place.  He got in the passenger side of my car and we talked.  He was not what I’d call attractive, but he also wasn’t repulsive, and his speech was a little off-putting, but the more we talked the easier it became for me to feel comfortable with it.  When our time became short and we both needed to leave, he leaned over and kissed me.  It was again okay, but not great.  He got out and into his own car and I drove away.

We talked again over the next week and he asked if I’d like to meet him again.  This time in a hotel room.  I figured I had nothing to lose and I did enjoy chatting with him.  If he wasn’t good in bed, then I could easily move on.  He was amazing in bed!  He was an adventurous lover and did things to my body I couldn’t get enough of.  That first sexual encounter sealed the deal and I agreed to meet him again.  His wife traveled for business and he was available often.  We took full advantage and met weekly, sometimes more frequently, every time for 2-3 hours of mind-blowing sex.

The third, and last man I’ll describe before turning to my present situation, was a computer programmer/code writer.  He was by far my favorite!  I met him after I’d left my second husband, before our divorce.  He had a place just north of where I lived and would come up on the weekends to get away and have downtime.

He was just a few years older than me, very tall – 6’4 – had blonde hair, blue eyes, and was the most attractive of all the others.  His smile was incredible!  We’d talked for several weeks on the site, then by text.  He was coming up for the weekend and asked if I’d meet him.  We agreed on a place in my town – a rule I’d held thus far, but was willing to break for him since I’d moved out of my husband’s home and across the state line.

He was already there, sitting at the bar, having a drink, when I arrived.  I knew immediately I was all in!  I sat on the stool next to him, he ordered me a drink, and we toasted our first meet.  We talked, laughed, drank, and talked some more.  Time flew!  Much too soon, it was getting late, his dog was in his car and he needed to get to the cabin.

We walked outside, he got his dog out of his car and on the leash and let him relieve himself, introduced us, then he leaned in and gave me the most amazing, toe-curling kiss I’d ever had.  My heart nearly pounded out of my chest!  We both agreed it was pretty awesome and would like to get together again.  He needed to leave the dog at his place, get things settled, and then he’d be in touch.

The next morning, he went into town – he doesn’t have signal at his cabin – and texted he’d be available later that afternoon if I’d like to get together.  I jumped at the chance!  I needed to see if the chemistry I felt when we kissed would translate to everything else we did.

I gave him my address and we made arrangements for when he’d pick me up.  We were going to get dinner and drinks and then see how the night progressed.  He took me to a cool local place I’d not been to before and we had a great time.  The conversation flowed easily and we became more comfortable with each other.  As the night got later, I asked if he’d like to come back to my place for a drink.

We got back to my apartment, made it inside the door, and then started peeling our clothes off.  We kissed our way into my bedroom and lay down, our bodies on fire and ready to be consumed.  Yes, the chemistry was just as I’d hoped!  He was amazing and we were amazing together!  We spent the entire night changing positions, exploring, giving each other pleasure until falling, exhausted, asleep right before dawn.

He became my focus, my only affair.  I gave up the others and arranged my schedule around his weekends at the cabin.  We took day trips on his motorcycle or in his sports car. We spent weekends in bed or we got out long enough to take his boat out on the lake or to drive to a place along the river we both enjoyed for drinks and playful public teasing.

For 9 months, I lived for our weekends.  He was the most exciting man I’d ever been with and I didn’t need anyone else to satisfy me.  The only thing that would have been better was if he’d not been married and we could spend more time together.  But the reality was, he was married and had no plans of changing his situation.  And when I met him I knew his circumstances so there was no reason to believe there would ever be more between us than what we had.

While I was seeing him, knowing he and his wife had sex maybe 3-4 times a year, I decided to see if I could find someone single worth dating.  I met someone I enjoyed and who I had lots in common with, but he had one flaw – he had a female business partner he wouldn’t give up.  He also wouldn’t tell her about me or us.  He didn’t want to upset her, which made absolutely no sense to me.  Thus I justified my continued visits with the married man.

Labor Day weekend, he was supposed to be out of town with his business partner looking for a place to buy so I had the married man over.  It was after 1:00 am when he finally left my apartment to drive back to his cabin.  His daughters were coming up to spend the holiday weekend with him so he couldn’t spend the night.

Shortly after he left, I had a knock on my door.  I figured he’d forgotten something or decided he couldn’t leave and wanted to spend more time with me.  It was the guy I’d been dating and he was furious.  He’d come back in town early and had been sitting outside my apartment for hours watching and waiting.  He saw the guy leave my apartment and realized what was going on.

Long story, short, he ruined my affair and exposed our activity to the married guy’s wife. The married guy blamed me for allowing the other guy into my life and our time together came to an abrupt end.

In my next post, I’ll get you to the point I met my current affair.

Why I chose this path

I never imagined myself becoming “the other woman”.  I grew up believing in true love and happily-ever-after.  I viewed marriage as a sacred covenant – one man, one woman, exchanging vows and promising to love each other for the rest of their days.

But life and love didn’t turn out the way I planned.  Fairy tales, Judy Blume books, and after school specials foolishly reinforced my rose-colored belief in a happy ending.  Real life had bumps and bruises, twists and turns I never expected nor  was I equipped with the ability to repair when the broken pieces started falling apart.

My first marriage was supposed to be my forever.  I was 18, in college, planning the rest of my perfect life.  We’d dated all through high school, fell into a routine of spending every free minute together because it was what we’d done for 3 years, and ignored the signs I now look back and see glaringly obvious before me.

For 10 years we limped along, miserable and faking.  In public, we were a happy family, enjoying life – when we were actually together.  At home, the arguing and bickering never ceased.  Neither one of us wanted to end it, but both of us knew it wasn’t what we’d signed up for.

When the affairs consumed more of our time than attempts at reconciliation, there was no reason to continue in the charade and I left.  My first divorce.

My second marriage was definitely going to be for the rest of my life.  We had so much in common, it was financially beneficial from a combined income standpoint, and it was easier to raise our sons together than as single parents.  The only problem was, I never really loved him.

He was a good man, a good father, a great step-father, and a good friend.  We laughed at the same things, we enjoyed doing things as a couple as well as with our mix of your’s, mine, and ours and we got along well enough in bed to make our marriage work – until it didn’t.

That missing piece – true abiding, sustaining love – finally became the divide we couldn’t cross.  Don’t get me wrong, I learned to love him, but I  never fell in love with him.  When life turned on a dime for us, and our sons – the glue we’d always had holding us together – grew up, moved away, and began lives of their own, the crumbling began.

When physical contact became a thing of the past, I had to decide if staying in the marriage for the sake of not having the stigma of a second divorce was something I could tolerate.

For the first 4 years, after he decided he no longer had a need for intimacy, I stayed.  And I remained faithful.  I didn’t like the absence of sex, but I held out hope he’d come around and decide he missed it as much as I did and we’d get back to the comfort of mediocrity we’d shared in bed for 14 years.

By year 5, I came to the realization he was never going to want or need again what I craved and couldn’t dismiss as a vital part of my existence.

I heard about a website for married people looking to have affairs.  The idea intrigued me and I signed up.  I was skeptical I could find someone to have an affair with who had as much to lose being exposed as I did by not exercising the utmost discretion, but I decided the thrill out weighed the risk.  And if, at the end of the day, my sexual needs were met I could stay married and not disrupt the day-to-day life we shared as roommates.

My first encounter was a disaster!  Live and learn the hard way!  I realized pictures could be faked, people played games, and I needed to be much more cautious.  Thankfully I got out with only a bad memory.

After that horrible experience, I swore to only meet guys who were real – pictures within the last 6 months – minimum, were willing to meet in a public place, the first time, to be sure there was a connection, and lived far enough away I wouldn’t run into them casually during my daily routine.  Additionally, they had to have the same voracious appetite for sex and the opportunity to get together to satisfy it.

Stay tuned for the rest of the story…

Join me for the ride

I’m involved with a married man.  I have been for 6 months.  I’ve become invested in the relationship and don’t want it to end.  I live for the snippets of time we get to spend together, in or out of bed.  We message each other all day, every day.  We share intimate details about our pasts and we support each other in our daily struggles.  We celebrate our victories and we plan for a future we know may never happen.

My next post, or two, will provide some background – help you understand how I ended up on this unexpected journey.  Stick around and ride the roller coaster with me.