How many times have we held each others gazes, locked in another realm where time stands still around us.
Our conversations drawn out, never awkward, only lingering on every syllable as to make it last.
The electrifying current between us like a Tesla coil could incinerate any being who dare walk between us.
With each passing life, we are like two parallel lines, never intersecting.
Fated to stand by each others side and behind this glass wall.
Never to hold..to touch..to slap..to kiss..to laugh..to wipe the tears..to scream..to make love.
We can only share each others secrets and clasp our hearts to each owns chest as to not let anyone know our feelings.
They can never know…they would never understand.
Such judgments would be laid upon us as to smite out our spirits..and our undying secret love.
Life has taken me down many paths. I have played many different roles too, daughter, friend, lover, mother, wife. The one that was the most haunting was the “other” woman. Played out through cyber correspondence, or an affair in the back seat on a hot summer night, the lingering effects are taboo, but addicting. Don’t get me wrong, this is neither to have pity for me, or inspire an affair you might have been plotting, just simply my story. My feelings on the roller coaster of human emotions we either choose to keep subdued, or act upon.
I cannot tell you the first time it ever happened, but I do know, the first taste of the adrenaline rush was when I was innocent to the affair. My first emotion was anger, then disappointment, then heartache, ending in confusion. What had just happened? I kissed his lips, felt his hand slide up my shirt and across my flesh. The reel playing over and over in my mind. Wait, I can’t see you again? You don’t know when, oh…right..I get it..You are 1) taken, 2) engaged, 3) married…Sitting pondering the event, why had that just happened? The thoughts of “If I had known..” crept into my mind. Then the sensation of the thrill of it..these butterflies that returned after my stomach stopped churning were different. I had done a bad…bad thing…and I liked it.
So what did that mean? Was I a totally horrible person? The after effects were a mixture of regret and anticipation to feel that same sensation again. What would the other woman think? Say? Feel? Would she find out? I could only compare it to what I know I would feel. I had been cheated on, we have all for the most part felt that heartbreak, and now I was participating in it..no..delighting in it. The question was still “why?”. I was not some concubine looking to raise my family into the higher court of the Kingdom. I was just some chick, getting hers. Technically, I was a home wrecker, slut, whore…yes, all of the above. I never set out with intentions of it. I didn’t troll around seedy bars to find my next poor sap falling off his stool looking for some overdue attention to his manhood. However, I didn’t hesitate either when a gentleman caller would want a fix, and I became knowledgeable of the situation at hand.
Was it the affection I was craving? That sought after feeling of being “wanted”. Is this some poor “I didn’t have a daddy growing up” complex I am abusing? Maybe, or maybe not.. We have the ability to change our paths, and to make our own choices. Free will was the greatest gift ever given to us. Without getting into religious quotes and bible thumping..yes, I do have a conscience. So why did it keep drawing me back? Why couldn’t I just say no? Because I didn’t want to.
The rawness of an affair is unlike any other. There are no shows to be put on. No insecurities. Your previously bound and gagged doppelganger is let loose and you can be who you have always secretly wanted to be in bed. No prude moments when time is of the essence. Passion and a need of release is driving you hard to the finish line. The others eagerness intensifies the moment and it’s your time to shine. “Oh baby that’s right, you wish your woman could do this to you..”, then reciprocated with, “I wish SHE would let me do this to her”. Harder, faster, your heart is going to burst from your chest.
Then the moment is over..a quick clothes check, phone check..we are good. Almost as if a business exchange just took place, we are now dressed shaking hands and turning opposite directions from the parking lot. The come down now occurs and the self reflection always takes its place. I am the one going home alone. Empty handed. My 30 minutes of glorious fame, yes please hand me my Oscar now, is over.
Is this what I have become. The fluffer for the others relationship. To go home to a warm house, a kiss on a cheek and an “ignorance is bliss” maxim to live by. I know what you are thinking..screaming at me in your head. Karma bitch..haha..if you only knew. It’s not a mistake if repeated time and again right? So why do the boys only love me when they are lonely?