Last time I just set up the scene: what my life was like, and how I could remotely get to the envelope-pushing place with a man who was (a) married and (b) I was also friends with his wife. Eww.
I'll be telling you all about it, the rise and fall of the forbidden relationship, in an effort to pull it out and examine it from this faraway distance. I need the perspective, and I need to purge it. At least I think I do. And here's why.
I still see that time through a glass darkly. I know it was wrong, but I also filter it through my then-perspective, which makes me lean toward 'excusing' or downplaying my behavior somewhat (so that I can live with myself? I don't know).
I really should be over vomiting in a corner about what I did back then, but I cannot quite make myself because - get ready - it was fun.
As I told you before, I loved dangerous, and my secret self still longs to be swept away in excitement and danger (obviously, the ideal is not a fcuking married-to-another man but back in the day of young and stupid truly all-about-me, that's where I was). It's like it wasn't 'really' adultery because we were all so young, or always out partying, or they didn't have kids, or insert your own crazy-ass excuse here.
Oh. My. Dear. God. Isn't that awful? I am creeping my own self out. I was (and still am?) so absolutely screwed up, but I'm saying it out loud. You have no idea how tempting it is to highlight and delete all this text so you will never know such bad sh!t about me. I sinned and I am remorseful. Kind of.
Yes, if not for grace, I would be completely going to hell.
Even after all that has happened to me (being the married woman whose husband was unfaithful), my point of view in my own adultery is still skewed. I heard a song a month or so ago that reminded me of Glenn, and immediately - without the time to censor myself - I smiled inwardly at the memory of a good time. (I am a little nauseous telling you this, because I realize how horrible and hypocritical this makes me).
As soon as the pleasant thought passed, I thought Does my husband have involuntary warm fuzzies when a song plays, or something reminds him of her? Before he can censor it because it was "bad", does he have a happy thought of her?
For a microsecond I could go there. I could understand it.
And yet in the very next second, my betrayed, self-righteous, hyprocritical self got all uppity and whatnot that he could dare have a warm thought of her. WTH is that? One-sided, selfish, and self-protective: that's what the hell that is.
