The Quest for T

This is the first of a 10 part series about the affair I had during my marriage. I realize that this might be uncomfortable for many to read. Perhaps you've been through this experience but from the other vantage point.

I have, unfortunately, seen infidelity from all sides and many different angles.

I feel the need to process this. It is painful but I learned much from it.

Perhaps it will educate someone on what its like to be the "other woman". Perhaps it will convince someone to think twice before having an affair. Perhaps I will turn many of you away.

Perhaps this is something I shouldn't even publish for fear that my daughters may read it one day.

I can't think about all of that. I simply know that I must write this. I must clear this...

Many of the details are foggy now but I do remember time in moments.

June 1996:

I was in my last year of college working towards a degree in Information Technology. My professors were impressed by my straight A average and suggested that I apply for a scholarship at a very large IT consulting corporation. If I won the scholarship, I'd be eligible for a paid internship as well.

I won - both the scholarship and the job.

My first day, after meeting with my new boss, he told me that he was assigning a man, we'll call him K, to be my mentor.

As we walked the aisle of cubicles meeting my other co-workers, they all began teasing me about this man K. They had me frightened that he was this mean, horrible person. His was the last cubicle in the row. I was shaking.

He turned and greeted me with the warmest, most friendliest smile I've ever seen on another person. My heart leapt.

And that is how we became fast friends.

---

I have never met a human being as kind and enthusiastic about life.

His enthusiasm for his job left me inspired and full of energy at the end of every work day. We would go to lunch together, now and then, to learn more about each other. We both loved music. We could talk for hours about concerts and bands. He was fascinated that I was a singer. I was eager to learn more and more about the systems we supported. He was always happy to answer questions.

I watched as he treated everyone, every single person he encountered, with so much love, always a smile, a complete happy gentleman. I noticed girls swooning as he walked by. He practically glowed and everyone noticed it.

He was the resident expert at our job and he was training me to be an expert too. I relished the new knowledge and I relished the relationship with my new friend.

---

At home, life was good.

I was studying constantly when I wasn't working. I'd set a goal for myself to graduate cum laude and when I set goals, nothing gets in my way.

My husband and I were ecstatic about my new job and income. We were on our way! I only had a summer and fall semester of school left and I already had a wonderful job.

My husband traveled nearly every week with work leaving me to my own devices. I was busy though. So busy, in fact, that I was hardly a wife. He took care of the house. He cooked the meals. He took care of me.

I was settled into a marriage 3 1/2 years old and, though I wish we could have spent more time together, I felt happy and content.

to be continued....

I suppose since Rascal and I only see each other twice a month, it is only natural that whatever I'm wearing seems to be practically torn from my body when we're finally alone.

One thing he doesn't realize about me is that I *LOVE* lingerie.

I do realize that every man is different. Some men prefer baby doll nightgowns. Others prefer leather. Some prefer lacey garters and tight corsets. Then others may prefer the simplicity of a matching bra and panties.

Rascal hasn't seen this side of me... other than bra and panties. And quite frankly, those are stripped so quickly that I guarantee he couldn't even tell you the color of them.

This past Saturday, I thought I'd surprise him with some of my favorite lingerie. I packed 3 different outfits to give him options.

We never made it past option #1.

---

Rascal and I had tickets to see Jewel in concert on Saturday night. With the concert, we were also staying the night in a hotel. It would be our first night alone in quite some time. Lately, we've been like a married couple with kids. Sneaking off whenever the children were distracted...

After check in and getting settled in the room, I opened my suitcase and began taking off my jeans and t-shirt. He smiled at me, thinking I was simply making things easier by getting naked before he could get to me.

Instead he watched as I pulled black thigh high stockings from my suitcase and slipped them on, making sure the dark line was straight from my heel, past my calf, behind my knee and up the back of my thigh. He stopped what he was doing and sat on the bed.

Then I pulled out the highest black heels that I own - nearly 5 inches in height - and bent over to buckle them around my ankles.

He walked over and playfully slid his fingers between my thighs. I stopped him and pushed him away. He sat back on the bed and laughed in anticipation of what was next.

I pulled out a black silk bustier and pulled it tight around my slender waist. I hooked each eye, slowly, while giving Rascal a teasing smile. Then I turned it around and lifted the straps over my shoulders. My breasts sat up high and formed a beautiful full cleavage that even I admired.

I began to walk toward him.

"Stop. Stay right there. I have to take all of this in. I want to memorize this moment."

I stood in front of him, feeling sexy, exposed, vulnerable and I watched as his smiling eyes gave way to lustful hunger.

He stood and took my hand, leading me to the wall of mirrors near the bed.

"Look at you. You look so... tall ... so ... statuesque. My God, you're beautiful."

Whatever sexy mask I was portraying was lost in that moment. A blushing smile was all that I could muster...

---

I find it humorous that after 6 months of dating, he is only now seeing me in some of my favorite not-so-outer-wear. But with a reaction like the one I received Saturday night (oh those poor hotel room neighbors!), you can bet he'll be seeing lots more.


Picture came from here

I am a very disciplined person. When my friend Marie and I lived together, she used to make fun of me because I always paid my bills on time (obsessively so) and I would never eat another single morsel of food after I brushed my teeth at night.

These are just little things. I've noticed that since I've become a single parent, I'm not near as type A or obsessive about things as I used to be. Sometimes, I even downright rebel.

Heh. I actually rebel against my own discipline.

But see, that discipline is what has helped me have good credit so I could buy my home. That discipline has helped me to train for triathlons and stay healthy. That discipline helps me squeeze as much as I can out of each day.

The past few days I've been feeling like the day has squeezed back. I'm overwhelmed and thus, I've shut down. I'm tired. I don't want to do anything that I have to do. I simply want to be.

Perhaps that is why I didn't rap out a blog post last night on my lonely laptop. I basically sat in my bed, ignoring the glowing screen that I now sit in front of.

I, in effect, gave it the finger and went to bed.

---

Why am I rebelling?

I have no idea.

Maybe its because I wanted to snuggle up with my daughters last night and talk instead of thinking of something to write.

Maybe its because I wanted to get in a good hour long bike training session since I signed up for yet another 164 mile bike ride for charity in the spring.

Maybe its because I was out of town all weekend and wanted to get caught up on a few TV shows that I'd recorded on my DVR. It felt good to be brainless.

Maybe its because....

Someone really close to me is going through something that I've already experienced in my life. Something that was quite a life-changing, belief-altering experience for me and I think it will be for this person as well.

This person is asking me for advice and I feel helpless to give it. Though I don't regret it, I wouldn't recommend it. However, what can I say when I did it too? How can I say, "Don't do it!" when I can fully understand the reasoning behind it?

It has thrown me for a loop.

I honestly didn't expect long hidden emotions to come raging back to the surface. I didn't realize that I still had processing to do. I had no idea that I still felt the things that I feel about this experience.

I had long ago justified it. I had long ago put it away as something that I simply had to go through. I never dug much deeper than that. It was too painful.

And, like the metaphorical beach ball that is being held under water, it bounced right back up in my face again. Now I realize that the only way to make it go away is to deal with it and let out all the air.

I guess sometimes, I feel there is enough of me to share. So I give myself. And give. And give. To my kids. My work. My family. My friends. My plans. My goals. My responsibilities.

Then one little thing becomes the tiny straw that breaks this camel's back.

So, in the meantime, I feel like rebelling.

I'll get over it eventually.

When you fall in love with someone, you learn what gives them pleasure.

Maybe they like to hold hands.... or to always have a heavy arm on your shoulder.

Maybe they like gentle teasing kisses on their face.... or your tongue darting in, out and around their open mouths.

Maybe they like to be caressed softly across their bare skin.... or fingernails raked across their back.

Maybe they like soft whispers in their ear.... or screaming moans when you cum.

Maybe they like all of those things... but only at certain times.

When you fall in love with someone, you learn how to give them pleasure. You also have to learn what to do with their pain.

Maybe they want to be held and commiserated with.... or a smile and positive words.

Maybe they want to shut down and not speak... or gently cajoled into spilling all their hurt.

Maybe they want to be left alone.... or maybe that's the worst thing you can do.

Maybe loving words will soothe them.... or maybe a loving touch instead...

....or maybe they don't want to be touched at all.

Maybe they like all of those things... but only at certain times.


Either way, all that you can do is try to find the correct combination of those *things* AND those *certain times*. In the process, you may feel like you're in a foreign land with no translators.

The good news is that if you immerse yourself in a foreign territory long enough, you begin to understand the language and the customs...

The fear leaves you. You fall into routine. You relax. You smile more.

Eventually, it becomes innate. Eventually, it feels like home.

Eventually.

I went to lunch with my best friend De yesterday (Veteran's Day). I miss her so much. We rarely get to see each other.

She is feeling her bliss right now after being down for a while. Her bliss is pretty contagious so we really enjoyed our time together.

As we were eating, I noticed the WWII veteran sitting at the next table. He wore a jacket and hat emblazoned with his battalion from the war. He was sitting with his wife and (I assume) adult granddaughter.

I smiled, reminding myself to thank him for his service, when he arose from his seat. I was about to stand and approach him but he wasn't leaving.

He stood up, picked up his wife's knife and fork and cut up her spaghetti and meatballs for her.

Have you ever felt your heart swell in your chest?  Wow.

As I told De about what I witnessed at the table behind her, she looked at my face, smiled and said, "You're totally going to blog that, aren't you?"

Heh.

---

The other night when I was enjoying my yoga class, Rascal decided to hit the basketball courts with some friends.

In high school, Rascal was always playing basketball. Actually, one of the reasons we didn't hang out was because I could care less about sports in high school.

Anyway, he decided to tackle the game again after beating these same guys a few weeks ago. I reminded him, before the game, how his knees bothered him the day after his last game. He promised to stretch and take it easy.

Have I mentioned that we are both 40 years old? (well, ok, I'm almost there.) Not that we should stop at age 40 (who me?) but our bodies must be treated with respect at this age. Unfortunately, his competitive athletic nature still believes he is a teenager.

After my yoga class, I received a text from him saying his knees were fine. However, he'd felt something *pop* in his right calf. Ouch!

Now he can't walk on it. He has a torn ligament.

Grrr... hardheaded men. I've told him that yoga will make him younger but he doesn't believe me. I think I've finally convinced him to let me teach him a few yoga asanas after he heals.

Knowing us though, the deep breathing and challenging poses will lead to something sexual.

Ok, that idea doesn't suck.

---

Early December 2006 - the year of my separation from my ex-husband - I decided to turn my shitty attitude around and host a 'gratitude party' at my house.

I posted a sign on the front door that said, "Leave your frowns at the door. Only smiles and thankfulness welcome here."

Throughout the house, I posted gratitude quotes. I had a white board in the middle of my living room where I asked my friends to write something they were grateful for.

At the end of the night, I gave each of my friends a journal and asked them to write in it every night... every thing they could think of that they were grateful for that day.

I don't know why I don't do this every year. It was a huge success and everyone was smiling.

Including me... who had two small children, had left my husband, lived in a house I couldn't afford and had no job.

Funny, how gratitude works. Everything turned out OK after all.

"If the only prayer you said in your whole life was, 'thank you,' that would suffice."
~ Meister Eckhart

There are some people in my life that I won't talk to about Rascal. I won't mention that his children came into town with him this weekend. I won't discuss how his boys adore me or how my girls beg me to take them back to Louisiana when I go visit.

I don't talk about it because I can sense their worry and hesitation.

They want to know our plans for the future and don't feel comfortable with a non-answer. Most especially, because there are children involved.

---

I remember when my ex-husband and I were dating, we would frequently be asked, "When's the wedding?" because we dated so seriously for so long.

Then when we married, we were asked, "When's the baby?"

Then when we had a baby, we were asked, "When's the next one?"

Why does everyone feel the right to decide what is going to happen next in your life?

Seriously. Is there some timeline or chart you're supposed to check off? Because if so, Rascal and I have both been there, done that. We see how well that worked out for either of us.

I have friends who have been in long term relationships and they never married because they didn't want to. I have friends who don't have kids because they choose not to. Why is that a problem?

Why is that considered 'not normal'?

---

Over the weekend, Rascal, myself and all the kids went on a nature walk at a local museum/wildlife sanctuary. We took lots of great pictures of his sons with my daughters.

As we were leaving, Rascal asked if we could get someone to take a picture of the 6 of us. In one beautiful shot, we are all looking at the camera and smiling. Six sets of denim clad legs that could be... maybe... one day... one big family.

I can't lie. Since we took that picture, I find myself looking at it. Could it be?

Then Rascal asks me on the phone the other night, "Do you find yourself looking at the picture of all 6 of us?"

"Maybe."

"Pfft. Maybe," he laughs, "You know you do. And I do too."

---

I do believe that Rascal and I both feel a bit gun-shy after previous relationships. I know that I certainly wonder if all of this long-distance-goodness can translate into real-everyday-life wonderfulness.

After all, I spent a year and a half listening to a man in my last relationship plan out our future together without really ever referring to me as his girlfriend.

Funny huh?

I only realized that the other day. The only time he implied I was his girlfriend was when I suggested that perhaps he go find another one. Yet, I hung on to those glorious plans and pie-in-the-sky conversations about how our relationship would be like no other. How we'd be the perfect made-for-each-other couple.... only to find that it was just that: a dream.

I do believe that he loved me. I do believe that he wanted that. But as I hung on to those words, that dream evaporated into nothingness.

So, yeah, I'm a bit nervous about these same conversations with Rascal. The difference is palpable though.

When I cling to Rascal's words, much more loosely than I ever did in previous relationships, they're always followed by action. Instead of cold nothingness, my arms wrap around healthy, warm love.

---

Rascal and I love each other. I believe we both love the idea of joining these families into one big almost Brady-like family. At the moment, however, we are also very happy with where things are and neither of us feels the rush to change it.

What if we choose to have a long-distance relationship for years? What if we choose to continue seeing each other twice a month, living in different towns, staying in contact and emotionally supporting each other over the phone on a daily basis?

Is that not still a relationship? Will we still be judged for not being 'normal'?

Then so be it.

Normal is overrated anyway.

I have no idea what is going to happen. We're still, as we have since the beginning, taking each day as it comes and having a damn good time at it (and quite frankly, our children are too). Until one of us decides we want more, no decisions need to be made. No wedding needs to be planned.

"It's something unpredictable, but in the end it's right.
I hope you had the time of your life."
~Green Day

All day long I've been sneezing and coughing my head off. I couldn't even take a deep breath without breaking into a full on coughing fit. But the ex offered to take the kids for the night (since he's been traveling and hasn't seen them since Halloween) so I would have an evening to myself.

What I wanted to do was get in a yoga class. I have taken one class since my surgery. In the meantime, my arms have lost their strength and tone. My abdomen is still weak from the cutting and stitching and not getting stronger at all. And I couldn't imagine how I'd take deep ujjayi breaths without coughing and therefore, disturbing all of my fellow yogis.

I've also been following the events at the Ft. Hood Memorial Ceremony today. I've read the victim's stories in this tragedy. I also recall supporting a man that I loved through a deployment to Iraq. I remember my own father and grandfathers who served in wars. All of these stories clouded my already cloudy head today with tomorrow being Veteran's Day.

So I went to a yoga class tonight and dedicated my practice to all of those men and women who serve our country.











The class felt great. My body responded well but I can tell that I have a long way to go in regaining my strength. The most difficult part of the class was holding back so that I do not injure myself.

I have to learn patience.

---

Tomorrow is Veteran's Day. Before last year, I'd never even thought about it before. I was disconnected from war. I felt sympathy but couldn't relate to veterans who'd gone to war.

Besides, I prefer peace to war.

But life throws us into situations that turn our perspectives upside down. I have a new respect for soldiers. I support our troops. I empathize with their families. I am proud of the freedoms that were hard earned for us.

And actually, I believe that soldiers prefer peace as well.

So, as I must be patient with my yoga practice, I hope that tomorrow when we honor our heroes, we'll offer each other that same patience. I hope that we can send a smile and love to those whose stories may not sound like much now... but if you knew they died protecting you, you'd be moved to tears.