My Pre-Midlife Crisis

Getting My "Affairs" In Order

It's no surprise to people that know me well that I had an affair when I was married to my first husband. In November of 1995, while at an interdisciplinary conference, I met D. I recall heading downstairs in sweats with my hair in a ponytail to register before too many people arrived. I hurried back up to my room and changed and put on makeup. As I walked back down into the lobby where folks were gathering, I noticed a nerdy-looking guy standing next to a potted palm. He was the quintessential glasses-clad geek - khakis, oxford dress shirt with a sweater vest and penny loafers. He grinned at me and caught my attention. He spoke first. "That was a remarkable transformation you made." I blushed. He had obviously seen my bedraggled self who was in sweats earlier. Horrors. But he didn't mind. He seemed amused with himself and with me. We introduced ourselves, chatted a bit, and went together to the opening luncheon.

I learned he was single, a mathematician and a computer software designer. He learned a bit about me. I did not mention I was married, though my nametag clearly displayed my hyphenated surname. We "clicked" and I was falling into the conversation, his sense of humor, and his attention to me. After the presentations that day, there was evening entertainment - a one-man play on the life of Albert Einstein. There was a cash bar outside, and D. purchased a glass of wine. A few minutes into the show, he handed the glass to me. I'd never had wine before, but I sipped at it and pretended to be a pro. I told him that Chardonnay was my favorite, so I'd look like I knew something. He went for more, and I felt my inhibitions vacate. While he was out, I removed my wedding band and slipped it into my pocket. The tan line was clearly visible, but for some reason I no longer cared what anyone thought.

During the play, we whispered in each other's ears, and brushed our cheeks against each others. After the play was over and everyone had left, we made our way back to the lobby where a beautiful grand piano sat. No one was around, and the snow was starting to fall outside. D. sat down at the piano and began to play an amazing classical piece like folks I'd admired in college. I sat on the piano bench next to him as he played for about an hour. Several people walked by and smiled, but no one ever came to question what we were doing. I felt like a princess - pretty with a glass of wine and a man playing the piano.

We got drinks and headed up to his room to talk more. We laid on the bed and told grad school stories and jokes. I asked him how old he was and he asked me to guess. I guessed 26, and he was so flattered because he was actually 30. I said, "Okay, you can guess me now." Well, apparently he heard that as "Okay, you can kiss me now." And he did. And I was gone. Absolutely gone. Brian who? Married to who? Me? Enter two more days of me out of my ever-loving mind. When D. finally asked about my last-name, I lied and told him I was separated. Later I told him I was still living with my husband, but going through a divorce. More lies. How deep could I sink? My roommates at the conference obviously knew I'd been somewhere, and it was easy for them to put two and two together.

After we parted ways from the conference, and I returned home, I was full of guilt. But as I returned to my unattractive and sexually uninterested husband, I longed for the excitement I had experienced. D. was the opposite of Brian. He was getting his second Master's degree, and was teaching at a prestigious university. He was older than I was, and had experienced a lot of life. He had been incarcerated for stealing computers at the first university he had attended. Still, I seemed to care less and less. D. and I exchanged e-mails, letters and cards, and several phone calls over the following months. Then, in 1996, after moving to CO for grad school, I decided I wanted to see D. again. We planned a trip for me to fly out and visit him where he lived. I did, and I spent more than a week at his place. We had fun going to museums and the zoo, and taking walks to the park and over to a lake and I worked on my writing in his apartment during the days when he was on campus teaching. I ate mussels for the first time, and ate at a fancy restaurant in the museum. I spent an entire afternoon on campus, roaming around the library and enjoying just living. We had dinners with his friends, and we stayed up late listening to Tangerine Dream.

That was the last time I saw D. In March of the following year, my husband declared that he was leaving to go back to Florida, and two weeks later he was gone. A few weeks later, in April of 1997, from a hotel room in Savannah, Georgia, I called D. It had been a long time since we'd talked. My girlfriend was in the room. After I hung up, she asked if I was going to see him again. I said, "No. That was the last contact we will ever have." She looked stunned and asked why, and if he had said anything. "No.", I said. "I just know." I was right. He never made contact after that, and neither did I.

That weekend in Savannah turned out to be life-changing. I went to the beach with good friends, and an ex-boyfriend named Len, all of whom were at the conference. I told them about my upcoming divorce. The ex-boyfriend looked interested, as we'd dated before I'd gotten married. But I wasn't interested in Len anymore, really. I enjoyed the beach, and enjoyed talking to my friends. I bought my first toe-ring and considered it to be a sign of my re-birth. At an early-morning business meeting, I met the man who would someday become my second (and hopefully last) husband, though I had no earthly idea at the time that we would ever be more than acquaintances. How the cosmos runs. I thought he was beautiful and interesting, and wickedly motivated and brilliant, but this time I was leaving well enough alone.

I had to get my "affairs" in order.

Now, as I feel like I'm in the same desperate kind of empty place in my marriage, I wonder about having an affair. But I also know well the risks. I had a great time, and discovered that I had permission to be sexual and adverturous and experimental, and that breaking the rules could produce unimaginable highs. But I hated the secrets and the lies, and they made the depression that I was already in even more unbearable. I adored being the object of fantasy, and knowing that I could knock someone's socks off. I loved the novelty and the newness, and (in some ways) the fear. I'm also sure that I felt like I was "getting even" with Brian for not paying attention to my needs, or working harder to please me and create desire and sexual intimacy in our marriage.

I don't want to have an affair, but I want all the wonderful feelings and discovery it brought.

posted by No Longer In Crisis @ 5/26/2005 10:52:00 AM