IF you have to start somewhere start at the beginning Every guy that’s been in the game has experienced it once or twice. For me the first time it happened was when I just got out of school. She has a sexy British accent with the European style to go with it. She wears these black leather pants with crazy zippers all over them the first night I dance with her at Mr. Days. She’s 30. She’s separated/ working on her divorce but still lives with him. She has a six year old daughter. It turns out she lives up the road from me which happens to be up the road from where I work at that time. She’s a regional manager for some big deal company.

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Like a vampire my youth is all about hunger and lust. Almost everyday on my lunch break. Neck ties are involved but not too tight because we can’t leave any marks. Light bondage. Thigh highs, a little scandal and an affair. As George Costanza once said, “It’s so very adult”. unfaith2.jpg If it’s not on my lunch break then it’s at night when she tells him she’s going to the bar to catch up with co workers. He works at night and they have a roommate who watches the child when she falls asleep.There are moments in her car when she turns to me and tells me how incredible I make her feel and how, “he just doesn’t get her and has no ambition”. For a moment I think she really believes this. The coolest thing she told me once when she came over and I was eager to get down to business instead of pretending she was there to watch a movie, (British accent) “a woman doesn’t like to feel cheap when it comes to these things”

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But every person who cheats wants to get caught. So one day she forgets to erase a text about meeting me at lunch and having me do certain things to her. He takes the phone and steps outside and calls me. unfath.jpg Him: Yo brah, you fucking my wife? Me: What, who the fuck is this!?! HIm: (angrier) You know who the fuck I am. ARE. YOU. FUCKING. MY. WIFE! Me: (trying to sound brave) Dude, I don’t know you like that, but that seems like something you should ask her. Fuck you. I hang up. I’m panicking, sweating. Does this guy know who I am? Where I live? Where I work? Is he on his way over here? Fuck, does he have gun? I’m fucked. My phone rings again and I hesitate but eventually pick up. He has a different tone. You can hear him sobbing this time: Him: (crying) Listen man, I’m sorry about that. Look, I just want someone to tell me the truth. I just want to know if she was serious about saving our marriage or if I’m being played. Please dude, just be honest. Are you fucking her?

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I don’t tell him about the afternoon trysts. The nights she comes over. Fooling around in my office parking garage. This whole time (my first time in a situation like this), she makes him sound like a passionless absentee lover, someone who doesn’t care about pleasing her or loving her. God, the stupid things I’ll tell myself for sex. I realize that this man loves her more than she could ever know, that he cares about his family. I feel like Jennifer Garner in season one of Alias when she finds out that SD-6 are the real bad guys. So I simply say, “Yes, I am, I gotta go”

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At that time I prayed that I’d never be so blind when it comes to women. I’d never fall in love so hard that I believed whatever my lover told me as the truth. That I would be stronger than that. As you grow older you realize that “that” kind of love is exactly what you want. To fall so deeply in love with someone that their words become rocks of truth that you base you’re reality on. That someones love and presence could make you that weak. I’m not there yet. Every situation you have to look at all the angles because if there’s one thing I know it’s that you’re always playing a game even when you’re not playing a game. But more than that it’s hard to trust in anyone you touch when you do not trust yourself.

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