I, too, committed adultery. Only I wasn't married back then. He was.
I met him in a group of people I hung out with after college. I had moved to a big city and fell into a fun crowd of co-ed singles for several years.
We'll call him Glenn. He was a flirt. He was in a very long-term relationship. Everyone knew he flirted outrageously; it was just part of his personality, his charm. He was funny, and I enjoyed both he and his girlfriend, Lucy, as part of our crowd.
One night we had closed down a dance club and were piling into someone's convertible to find a greasy spoon for an oh-so-early breakfast to prevent the onslaught of sure-to-come hangovers.
We were climbing in and around each other to find seats; who would sit down in front, who would get in back, who would risk a blue light sitting on the backs of the seats with the top down...
It was very dark. Glenn climbed over me and -whoa, jack- kissed me on his way to sit down. My boyfriend hadn't yet climbed in the car.
It was a real kiss, long enough for me to know he meant it, and he would do it again if he could. Real enough to hide that information from The Boyfriend.
My best friend saw it happen and we laughed about it later - in an oh, that Glenn kind of way.
But I knew it was dangerous. Dude, I loved dangerous. I craved attention and affirmation. But the difference with me is that I didn't actively seek it like a needy, desperate girl at a frat party. Quite the opposite. I presented myself as independent, bubbly, fun, and totally self-sufficient, thankyouverymuch.
But should you happen to really dig me, I loved that. Fed on it. It tickled and massaged a deep need within me, and I felt alive when someone - or plural someones - were obviously attracted to me.
So.
Many months after The Convertible Incident, Glenn & Lucy became engaged and then married. We all traveled to the event and made merry with our friends.
Glenn remained his charming, party-boy self yet also a sweet, romantic husband. On each month anniversary after their wedding day, he gave Lucy the corresponding number of roses. We all continued to hang out together - bar-hopping, game nights, cookouts, supper clubs. The usual.
I remember entering a bar one night and going upstairs as Glenn was coming downstairs. He kissed me (for real) on the way past me. We laughed and I continued into the bar.
I cannot accurately recall the next step down the slippery slope. Harmless flirting had continued among all of us - it was just our way as a group. Not unlike the cast of "Friends", some of us had dated several in the group throughout our years of hanging out.
I think a Superbowl party was where the conversation turned a corner. I recall Glenn giving me his beeper number if I was interested in pursuing anything. I didn't use it.
A group ski trip to Lake Tahoe was planned and there was no way I was able to go. I had returned to school and was getting a second degree. A week out of state was out of the question. My boyfriend, however, was on the trip roster. I was selfishly hurt that he would plan to go without me, would even consider it.
Left Out, the thing I hated most, was upon me and I had no control/recourse.
Adding salt to my wound - the trip dates fell over Valentine's Day. To his credit, The Boyfriend left me a present and card to open, and called several times during the trip.
Didn't matter.
I was beside myself with abandonment issues the whole time. Left out, inferior, left behind. I can't begin to convey the inner turmoil I had over this stupid-ass ski trip. Of course, now, so many years later, I understand why this situation was extremely crazy-making.
Tahoe set me up to be vunerable. Even when the group returned home, I could not emotionally let it go. I exuded an undercurrent of *pissed-off*-ness. (if my husband is reading this, he's probably nodding his head in all-too-familiar knowledge of what that looks like)
The Boyfriend and I were not getting along. One night at a club, he was reminiscing about the trip with two girls who had been there and I began seething. Perhaps smoke was seen, I cannot be certain. I picked a good fight and he ended up leaving for home without me.
And. It just so happened that Glenn was out that night.
And. His wife, Lucy, had traveled to the west coast on business.
And. He offered to give me a ride home, post-argument. I was living with The Boyfriend; Glenn & Lucy lived two streets away from us.
We stayed out late at the bar. On the way home, Glenn asked if we could stop by his house to check on his dog. Sure, I said. I was in no hurry to get home, believeyoume. **Danger, Will Robinson**
So, we went to his house and I was petting the dog 'hello'. Glenn came up behind me, turned me around, and kissed the hell out of me.
Unexpected (yet well-timed) passionate kisses are my Achilles' heel. (My husband actually found this out the night he met me: dude can kiss like a house on fire. My heart's all skipping beats just remembering that)Putty, I tell you. Yummy stuff. And talk about not being left out. That was good medicine for what ailed me at the time.
