An Affair I Wish I Didn’t Remember

In true masochistic fashion, I poked around on facebook last night and found him. Saw the man I hadn’t seen in over a year and a half. His empty eyes stared back at me, sad and visibly older. I immediately closed the browser, then went back. I couldn’t stop looking at him, the shock of actually finding him starting to register across my mind. I had no pictures of him previously, and now, there he was. The tears I thought would flow, didn’t come until 4am when I awoke from a particurly vivid dream, where I was apartment hunting with him, under an umbrella, in the pouring rain. I woke up already in hysterics and couldn’t force myself to go back to sleep, what he was saying reverbarating through my mind.

Some of you may remember this post from when it was up on Indie Bloggers. Unfortunately Indie Bloggers is no more (so sad!) and I have no archived copy of this and feel this experience, while amazing and traumatic at the same time, needs to be shared, a lesson that can be learned from me about why you should never put yourself in this situation. One that can be referenced back to, mainly by myself. It is controversial, it is deeply personal. I have dealt with what I did, I have worked it out within myself. I love this piece, and I hate that I had to write this piece. Please be respectful of my ordeal.

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I still remember the exact moment I saw him. He was standing in the second row, a head above the rest, waiting to get off the train. I had been stuck in forced conversation with the guy seated next to me since 6:45am and wasn’t in a good mood as a result. Annoyed, I looked towards the front and at that moment our eyes met over the horrible blue and maroon vinyl seating. He smiled slightly showing off his dimples and instantly my day got better.

Each morning I would see him board the train two stations from where I got on. The air seemed to change when he was on board, electrified by whatever was shared between us. I couldn’t take my usual morning nap if he was in the same car as me, my senses hyped up as if on overdrive. Every time a seat opened up next to mine I would hope that he would sit down. One day, a week later, it finally happened.

The girl across the aisle from us had missed her stop and she was discussing it at a ridiculously long length with the conductor. Every once in a while the stranger with the dimples would look over and smirk at me, making me melt just ever so slightly. I took off my earphones and turned off my iPod, pretending it had died. I put it in my bag, itching with anticipation. We had been noticing each other all week, silently watching each other. He had to feel it, this spark.

It was supposed to rain that day and I had forgotten an umbrella. We pulled into the station and I realized this was now or never. As he reached for his patio sized umbrella located in the metal shelf above me, I commented that I hope it didn’t rain on me because I forgot my umbrella at home. We small talked back and forth, his voice was sexy but I thought his teeth were crooked. He was animated, smiling with both his eyes and his mouth at me.

We got off the train, still chatting. I gave him my name, he took my hand and gave me his. I liked it, it suited him. We walked each other out of the station and said goodbye.

I smiled the entire 20 block walk to school, the feeling lasting all day.

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I remember that Friday morning, a week later. I was heading to the airport and he offered to show me a good place to grab breakfast. I picked out a yogurt and granola and smiled to myself when I saw him check out the tag on my suitcase. He insisted to pay and lead me over to a table in the back. He told me he couldn’t stay, he had a meeting that he had to go to. Yet, I found him seated across from me, his tall frame seated in a tiny chair chatting with me about things I don’t even remember. He mentioned he wished he could have lived in NY, he would live in SoHo if given the chance. I ask him why he doesn’t just do it.

I’m married.

And…I have two kids.

My smile faltered, I can’t say I wasn’t terribly disappointed. I admitted to being in a relationship as well, one that was failing. He told me that he knew I had to be in a relationship, I was too pretty not to be. When we said goodbye he looked into my eyes and asked if he would I see me Tuesday morning? I told him yes. He smiled that smile I was growing fond of and told me he was looking forward to it. He turned left towards his office leaving me to my bus to JFK.

I didn’t plan on seeing him again.

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My phone rang, my caller id betraying his number. This was it, this was the night. It was a Wednesday, I was in Chelsea walking through Anthropologie when he called. We’re just going to be friends with benefits, right? There are no expectations. I can’t say I didn’t know what I was doing. I had been single a whole two weeks and he was staying in the city that night for a work function. We had spent months calling, texting, emailing. Doing lunches at “the club”. It was all culminating in this night, this simple, mundane, Wednesday night in December.

My phone rang, I was anxiously waiting in my room for this call. Save me, I have a woman here grabbing my ass. I laughed at him, told him to come over whenever he was ready.

I walked out the front door of my building and greeted him with a kiss on the cheek, God he looks good. He was aiming for lips but it was too early for that. He had taken off his ring, he knew what he was doing as well. We go to this college bar near my apartment and sit at a table with a red checkered table cloth. I get a baileys on the rocks, him a rum and coke. I think we were both very nervous.

It wasn’t long before we were stumbling up the five flights of stairs, not drunk but had had enough of staring at each other, chitchatting over things that wouldn’t matter later. This is what we’d been flirting with a lot over the past few months. Teasing each other provocatively on the train, over emails, on the phone when given the chance. I gave him a short tour of my apartment, took him up the winding circular metal staircase and closed the door behind us. He grabbed my head in his hands and kissed me, a mind shattering kiss, those you read about in novels, see in romance movies. He pulled away for a second to tell me that he had been longing to do that for a long time.

I was glowing.

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We had been together over a month. We would usually find ourselves in bed at the end of the night, our faces close, noses almost touching, just looking into each others eyes. His eyes would get especially green, a sign he was emotional. You make me so happy. He was running his hands through my hair. I almost broke it off with him on New Years Eve. I went out that night and danced my ass off and all I wanted was for him to be in my bed when I got home. My texts to him were not going through, he was jealous thinking of me out having a good time with other guys. We had been inseparable ever since.

He would slide his hands all over my body, close his eyes and exhale loudly. I’m like a completely different person when I go home. I don’t like that person.

I had never been more happy.

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A month and a half. It was surreal yet the feelings I had were so strong, so fast and forthcoming. He said the physical was so good because the mental part of our relationship was so strong. The days were good, filled with emails and texts, phone calls when he got to his car after work. We talked all night via email. He would say things to me that I had always dreamed a guy would say, he treated me with such care and passion. It was later, when the goodnights were exchanged and my logical brain kicked in that the tears would start. Rolling down my face till 1, 2, 3 am. I’d cry hysterically till I was too tired to stay awake.

I had never been so miserable yet so happy at exactly the same time.

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I had cried all night, hysterical rolling sobs. They shook me to my core. That morning, faced with an incredible calm I opened my email, pressed my mouse to the write button and typed my email. Please call me when you get the chance. Thanks. Short. Simple. Void of emotion. I felt like I was having an out of body experience.

An hour later my phone rang, the caller ID reminding me what I had to do. I picked it up after a few rings too many, and barely got it out before losing it. I can’t do this anymore. He asked if we could be friends. I told him not right now, I needed time.

I had broken my own heart and had never known more pain in my life.

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Its a year later, I wake up in the morning with the lingering memory of him floating through my mind. I have dreamt of him again-one of many dreams I have had since walking away. I still remember his smile, his dimples, the way he looked at me with such intensity in his eyes. His broad shoulders, the way his arms felt wrapped around me, his muscular stomach as it swept downwards. The little quirks he had, his laughter, the way he sounded in the heat of passion. The way he touched me, how it felt to sleep next to him. One thing I can’t remember exactly is the sound of his voice. I’m sure the others will fade over time, but this is one affair I will never forget.

I am no longer miserable, but I’m still tinged with sadness.