The Anatomy of an Affair

About six years ago MW moved to my hometown and we met at a birthday party. MW made an immediate impression because she was tall, skinny, dark, and beautiful. She was also well educated and sophisticated, however, what I liked most was that she was completely unpretentious. She grew up in a small town, and that small town friendliness was there for all to see. She had a great sense of humor. And although I found MW to be very sexy, I did not envision at that first meeting that I would one day be writing this piece head over heels in love.

At the time of this first meeting, I had been married for over five years and I had never had the urge to stray. In college, I sowed enough wild oats to start an oat farm and I had learned that managing multiple relationships was a tricky business. Once you cheat you destroy the unspoken trust that is the glue upon which all relationships are founded. I knew that without that bond, any relationship is bound to fizzle. So I did not cheat, I did not look to cheat, and I just accepted the fact that all marriages were less than ideal and mine was no different. Anyway, enough ancient history.

In meeting MW, I was also introduced to her H. Subsequently, MW and her H became friends of me and my wife. Our children played together, we went out to dinners etc. and we even spent a few weekends together. As families we became fairly close. Several years passed.

During this time, MW and I developed a sort of special friendship. We were always excited to see each other and I found myself wanting her. When we would greet each other she always made a point to give me a kiss, but not just any kiss, always a kiss on the lips. I wrote this off as her just being friendly. Once or twice I got a glimpse down her shirt providing limited but important mental material for various solo sessions. (Subsequently, MW would admit that she too had all kinds of sexual dreams and fantasies about me).

MW and I are both flirtatious and when we were together we would flirt. Even my W noticed, but at that point she just wrote it off as two people flirting. I took advantage of the mental closeness with MW to hold her hand once or twice. Once I even grabbed her thigh. If we were all going out to dinner, I would try to walk arm in arm with her even if it was in front of my W and her H. Despite all these signs of obvious affection, I was not in any way, shape, or form contemplating any kind of extramarital affair.

MW then moved thousands of miles away, and I remember being very sad because I was not sure how much I would see her in the future.

An important point that I have so far omitted is that around this time MW and W became business partners and MW's business required her to return to my town periodically. Thus all was not lost and over the course of the next 9 months I saw MW occasionally. A happy turn of events came when my company expanded to her new hometown. This expansion required me to spend significant amounts of time in MWs locale.

During my first visit I met up with MW and her H and we had dinner together. We scheduled another dinner for about a week later, but for whatever reason her H was not able to make it and MW came alone. I was aware that MW would be alone, and I must admit that before I went out to meet her that night, I definitely thought about making love to her. I even cleaned up my room just in case we returned.

At dinner, MW and I hit it off as we always did. Conversation was lively, energetic, happy and enthralling. We stared into each other eyes simply delighted to be out together. After dinner, we walked about town and went to one or two bars. We walked arm in arm and smiled like a bunch of idiots. We went to one more bar, and there while seated on the barstool, I could no longer resist temptation. I was helpless, like a lemming being drawn to the sea. I had to kiss this woman even if it meant that she might slap my face. I had wanted to do it for so long and had dreamed about it so many times that I was powerless to stop. I knew it was wrong, but…

There followed the sweetest, sexiest, most passionate little kiss. Years of longing reduced to one moment. The uncertainty and the risk added to the tension and when MW responded positively I thought I was going to blow a gasket. The emotion was overwhelming, and I think I remember saying, "I couldn't help myself." And she said, "What took you so long?" I kissed her again, and again, and again. I felt so alive. After 10 years with the same woman, I was now with this incredibly beautiful woman and she was responding to me, and with passion. And the kisses were so sweet, her lips so soft, her mouth and tongue so warm and inviting, far better than anything I could have possibly imagined.

When I kissed her goodbye that night I was positively giddy, literally floating on air. Although it had been nothing more than a few sweet kisses, the idea that there was someone else who wanted me like I wanted them was a powerful elixir. There was so much to look forward to: the uncertainty, the mystery, the passion. It was unbelievable, and I could not wait to get home to take care of myself.

Oh yeah, one more thing before I sign off for today. I had no intention of this being anything more than some type of deepened friendship. I remember saying something stupid to MW along the lines of, "There is no way I could do this with someone unless they had as much to lose as I did."

Part 2 Ain't love grand?

The day after the fateful dinner, I called MW to make sure she had arrived home safely and to make sure that she was not overcome with guilt and remorse. She was glad I called and I was reassured to find out that she was not overcome with guilt and remorse. After all, I wanted more and there was no way I would get more if she all of a sudden began to have second thoughts.

About two weeks passed before I saw MW again and by then we were back in my town. We were longing for each other, and longing to grope each other. As you can imagine, the sexual tension between us was horrific because there was so much to look forward to but no way to find immediate gratification because my W was ever present. Thus, we were only able to manage only a few short hugs and kisses. Just before she returned home, however, we had one short encounter in her hotel room. While sitting on the sofa kissing she said she wanted to lie on the bed. As she put it, "I want to feel your body. No sex mind you, just a little closeness."

I do not think I have ever experienced a comparable case of blue balls. I was dying, about to explode in my pants like a 13 year old, but nevertheless, our little moment of closeness was just that. There was no time for anything more, and thus I was left high and dry.

Two more weeks passed before I returned to MWs hometown. The day after my arrival I telephoned MW and we made immediate plans to spend the afternoon together. Thus, after 10 years of a monogamous relationship with W, I was now on the verge of having sex with somebody else. Forbidden fruit was at hand, waiting to be plucked. The tension was awesome. I felt like a teenager about to go out on my first date, and waiting for the hours to pass was pure agony. Excitement, fear, and fantasy all rolled into a ball of emotional ecstasy. I was so alive. (MW was so overcome by the sexual tension of this episode that she nearly crashed her car on the way to our rendezvous).

And then the moment came. MW arrived at my room and we spent the next 3 hours slowly undressing each other and exploring each others' body. I remember being nervous about whether or not I would be a good lover. I feared "losing it" before I even got started. Without going into the steamy details suffice it to say that we made love at least three times and needless to say we had a great time. Perhaps what was most special was the way we opened up to each other, the communication we shared. Lying there naked, we were finally willing to let go of all our accumulated baggage and truly open up to each other. It was a moment of closeness and touching and feeling that I will never forget.

Following this full on sexual encounter there was no going back to our normal lives. We were explorers, each with a new best friend. For once, I had someone with whom I could share my most intimate thoughts, my unmet needs, my wants and desires. And everything was so new. There was so much to learn about each other, our pasts, our loves. My self esteem soared and for several months I floated on the knowledge that there was someone special out there who loved me for me, in an unconditional kind of way. (It makes me wonder, fellow philanderers, if there is not something about the very nature of affairs that allows the people in the affair to accept the OP unconditionally).

The next six months were like a honeymoon. Although we could not see as much of each other as we would have liked because of the distance, we did manage to see each other frequently. We would steal moments together and arrange meetings when we thought we were safe. One day, we sneaked off to the beach and MW took off all her clothes and twirled around in circles. We made love and saw whales breaching. We smoked pot, ate a picnic lunch, and hit golf balls up and down the beach. We were like kids in love, totally free and without constraint. Life was grand.

We spent the night together a couple of times. Of all the experiences of being in an extramarital affair, spending the night together has to be the ultimate. A romantic dinner including quiet, meaningful conversation is followed by a night of lovemaking. You wake up and your OP is still there. For all of us philanderers, I have got to believe that this experience is the most treasured. Anyway, I digress.

Perhaps at this point I should take a moment to address what was happening to my marriage. As you will recall, when the affair began I had no intention of the affair becoming anything more than a deepened friendship.

Oddly enough, the first thing that took place in my marriage was that I had a renewed sexual interest in my W. I felt that maybe our sex life had deteriorated because I wasn't trying hard enough. Not to mention, spending time with MW had reminded me how much fun it was just to make out. So I tried to become closer to my W. Significantly, my W did not welcome this sudden renewed interest and as a result I felt rejected. Here I was, giving it the old college try, and W was showing no interest.

This event was particularly significant because I began to compare life with W to life with MW and the comparison was not favorable to W. Additionally, I was afraid that W had given up and thus life with W was life in a dead marriage and who needs that. As a result of these feelings, I began to resent W and everything about her. What had been a supposedly happy marriage was now a relationship headed for disaster. Okay, enough about my marriage.

MW has a theory. She believes that if two people spend enough time together and share enough bodily fluids that they can not help but feel a deep bond and attraction. She thinks of it as being almost chemical in nature. Well, regardless as to the validity of her theory, MW and I developed such an incredibly deep bond that eventually neither of us could stand being apart. We wanted each other so badly that we began to talk about divorcing our spouses so that we could be together. Strangely enough, I had no qualms about divorce. I was so head over heels in love that I could have cared less about the consequences. I was so happy that nothing could ruin my happiness. How could I feel upset when I had met the most wonderful woman in the world?

Somewhere during these initial months MW and I cooked up a plan for our families to take a vacation together and sure enough it came to pass that we all went away together for a week. By this point our conspiracy had grown and grown and we both were on the verge of leaving our spouses. I was one foot out the door, treating my W like shit, and fully prepared for my brave new world. MW and I were getting along great and every moment together was extra special.

On one night during this vacation MW had to go out to dinner with her H and I was not invited. MW was dressed in a gorgeous silk pantsuit and she and I met in the bar for a drink before she went out. The sun was setting and its final rays were glinting on her hair. She was beautiful, positively radiant, and it killed me to say good bye that night, but nevertheless I did. I returned to my room and stood on the balcony and perhaps for the one and only time in my life I was overcome by feelings of complete happiness. I could have died right then and there and had no regrets. I was loved by the most wonderful woman alive and we were on the verge of spending our lives together.

Before I sign off for today, I will leave you with this thought. When the affair started, I had no intention of leaving my W and MW and no intention of leaving her H. Despite this fact, and several thousand miles separating us, MW and I went from being deep platonic friends to being lovers and soulmates within 7 to 8 months. Love will find a way, I say, and no amount of rational self examination will prevent love from turning your world completely inside out.

Part 3 Welcome to the Roller Coaster

As I stood on the hotel room balcony I was overcome by a feeling of total happiness. I experienced a feeling of contentment so complete that I felt as if I was glowing. I was a fool in love, and as I said before, I could have died, right then and there, without any regrets.

In varying degrees of intensity, I have experienced this feeling of total contentment or pure love only a few other times. Perhaps the next time I had this feeling was six months later. I was in Rome.

My flight landed in the early afternoon and by late afternoon, W and I had checked into our hotel room. I immediately changed my clothes and put on my running gear. I turned on my CD player, kissed W goodbye, and headed out the door.

(Oh yeah, I run now. I have been running since this affair began. I have gone from a high of about 180 lbs. down to 152 lbs. I am lean and trim, you can even make out my stomach muscles. None of my old clothes fit anymore. Running (exercise) is great for self esteem. My OP loves the results. The other benefit of running is that it provides all kinds of excuses enabling me to get away from W).

Soon I was running in the Borghese Gardens. I headed for the Spanish Steps, and when I arrived, MW was standing there, beautiful as always. I felt all tingly inside. I removed my earphones and put them on MWs ears. The song playing was "If we kiss, would your tongue slip past my lips?" I kissed her while she listened to the song. I kissed her again, and again, and gave her a big hug.

(Kissing is so intimate. MW has the sweetest softest lips and I can spend hours on end just kissing her. We stare into each others soul and get totally wrapped up. Kissing W, on the other hand, is not the same. She is always trying to ram her yucky old tongue down my throat. MW also hates kissing her H. He sucks her lips).

When the song ended, MW took off the head phones and we walked around the Borghese Gardens holding hands. Despite being miles from home, we had somehow found a way to steal this perfect little moment. (The high art of philandering is finding ways to steal perfect little moments).

Unfortunately, when you take off running you have to be somewhat careful of the time and so after about 15 minutes I had to leave. Before leaving, MW and I made plans to meet the following morning at 7:30 am. We kissed goodbye, and for a brief tiny moment, I once again experienced that feeling of true love.

By now, all you careful readers are wondering what the hell has happened. What about the divorce? Why is W still in the picture? In response, I ask…did you forget this was a roller coaster? Let's go back in time.

When I returned from the joint vacation with MWs family, I was convinced that MW and I were going to leave our spouses and be together. I was completely comfortable with this notion and eager to begin my new life. Unfortunately, as you must have guessed, events did not go as planned.

W and I were barely speaking with one another. Indeed, the entire vacation had been a continual fight with W and she was starting to have severe emotional problems. At one point she dragged me aside in tears and demanded to know what was up. Like a total idiot, I suggested to her that, yes our relationship did suck, and furthermore, that the idea of divorce had crossed my mind. As you can imagine, this conversation was very destabilizing, and in retrospect, I wish I had never opened my big mouth.

In addition to being emotionally distraught, W had finally grown suspicious that perhaps there was something going on between MW and I, and when we returned home from vacation she tried to force a confession. Given that I was in love with MW, and fully convinced that it was only a matter of days before I dropped my bomb on W, I almost did confess. Almost. But for whatever reason, some tiny voice in my head said "No. Do not confess. Deny." And so deny I did. I refused to answer questions, I told outright lies, I obfuscated, I did just about anything to avoid giving my W the satisfaction of the truth. I was callous, rude, stubborn, and quiet. As much as my W might have deserved the truth, I was not going to give it to her. At least not for a little while.

The next day I spoke with MW and revealed to her the heavy pressure I was under. I told her I was ready to admit all. All MW had to do was say the word. However, instead of telling me go ahead, MW said, "Wait. I can't do this right now. Not with the holidays coming up."

And with that, my fellow philanderers, I was doomed to life with W, the dead marriage. No just any old dead marriage, mind you, in this case a dead marriage with an emotional wreck. Knowing that I might never summon the courage again, I begged MW to run away with me then and there. But she was unrelenting. "We must wait," she said. "Till when?" I asked. We made a new plan. Early March was the target.

The next several months were agony. My W turned into an emotional pool of jelly and conversations between us turned inevitably turned to the subject of MW and I. Perhaps she thought that over time she could wear me down and I would confess my love for MW. But I never did. I lied and I lied, and I denied that whole thing inside and out and with all the passion I could muster. She suggested counseling. I said, "No fucking way."

(As silly as this may sound, of all the things I fear and abhor, counseling has got to be on top of the list. Its bad enough telling a whole stack of lies to W in the first place, but the idea of repeating those lies to a counselor gives me the willies. And what's the alternative? Open up and tell the truth? I don't think so.)

The most painful aspect of these conversations with W occurred when she would detail the reasons why she thought I was having an extramarital affair. She would describe the way MW and I looked at one another, the easy conversation, and the obvious enthrallment that occurred when we were with each other. She went so far as to describe us as soulmates. W longed to have the same type of relationship and it her hurt deeply to compare the two relationships.

Anyway, life with W sucked and I could not wait for March. Unfortunately, when March arrived MW did not stick to the plan. Instead she broke up with me. (Subsequently, MW and I have broken up a number of times. I do not know why we keep doing this to each other because neither one us can stand being broken. We feel dead, or worse, that our best friend has died. A day or two passes, and then we come running back. We are co-dependent.)

Once again, my carefully laid plan to run away had been cancelled by MWs case of cold feet and a terrible bout with guilt. Perhaps even worse, MW had hurt me. She had left me hanging, and for the first time in the affair I suffered from doubt and mixed feelings.

Back to Rome. It was 7:00 am. Somehow, I overcame the jet lag I was suffering from and was able to get out of bed and don my running clothes. I sprinted off to the Borghese Gardens and met MW at the top of the Spanish Steps. It was early in the morning and there were not very many people about. We wandered to a nearby bench. MW sat on me, and we made love right then and there, in front of the occasional passer by. I love MW, partly because she is a little crazy like this.

We made plans to meet the next day. Same time, only this time MW promised to wear a miniskirt and no panties. The next day came, and MW showed up at the Spanish Steps in a miniskirt with no panties. She wanted to tell me something important because she had spent the whole night awake, thinking about me, about us. She had decided that she wanted to be with me, forever, because she could not live without me. She had tried that. Finally, she was content with this decision and she could not wait to see me. There was only one problem.

I was asleep. I woke up at 7:30, but reasoned there was no way to make our rendezvous. I stayed in bed. And that, my friends, was a fatal mistake. I hurt MW that morning and to some extent I am not sure she has ever forgiven me.

And now, fellow philanderers, before I stop for the day I will leave you with this thought. With each day that passes, we die a little from our own inaction, and sometimes as a result of our inaction, we hurt our OPs. My OP has hurt me and I have hurt her. The longer we wait, the more unlikely we are to do anything.

Part 4 Life after death

MW is at the Spanish Steps. It is 7:30 a.m. and she is wearing a miniskirt and no panties. I am supposed to be there, but instead I am asleep in my hotel room. MW wants to tell me that she loves me and wants to be with me. She has been awake all night tossing and turning. Finally, she had made up her mind. But I am asleep.

A warm bed is a very difficult place to leave at 7:00 a.m when you are fighting 10 hrs time difference and your head hit the sheets only five hours before. Like a boob, I had not set an alarm, however, I did wake up at 7:30 a.m. I thought about MW and about the amount of time it would take to run to the Spanish Steps, approximately 15 minutes. It would take another 5 minutes to get up, dressed, teeth brushed, and out the door. Thus, at best I could reach the Steps by 7:50. MW had a plane to catch, she could not wait past 7:45 or so. So I lay in bed. (At this point in the narrative I imagine that all my female readers are cringing.)

If you want to talk about dumbfucks you might as well start with me because occasionally I am their king. MW waited at the steps until 8:15 or so and by the time she finally gave up she was livid. She felt ridiculous standing in the cold morning air wearing a miniskirt without panties and waiting for Godot. As a result, she was bile spewing, MM hating, pissed off. She became the devil queen of all similarly afflicted OWs, perhaps even their empress. And to make matters worse, these feelings brewed all the way back home and for an additional two days before being able to confront me directly.

(Imagine yourself in a small room. It is dark. You think you are alone until you hear the sound of cat claws on slate. The sound doesn't stop and there is nothing you can do to stop it. You are trapped. Two days pass).

I do not wish to dwell much further on this event because it brings up painful memories. I had hurt MW and the hurt she felt had a significant influence on our relationship. Whereas previously I could do no wrong, this was no longer the case. To make matters worse, MWs immediate desire to run off with me was squashed.

Over the course of the next six months there were not any particularly significant events in our relationship. We held on to the hope of being together but realized that perhaps we were not ready for the heartache and headache we would cause. I suppose in hindsight that the baggage that we were both beginning to carry was giving us second thoughts. Not major second thoughts mind you, but just enough to make it impossible to summon the courage required for the bold move. We talked about October 1999. I had a lot of work coming up, but I planned to have a relatively clear schedule by October 1999. The conversation was almost surreal. I'm not sure I really believed anything would happen. If the past were any indication, it was all pie in the sky.

(In one sense, fellow philanderers, I think that we exist in a state of quasi fantasy land. It is all real mind you, but we have conversations with our OPs that are not always grounded in reality. We say things that we might not mean because we think we will never be faced with the reality. But then reality comes, and we are faced with what we have said. Soon thereafter the lines of communication break down).

MW needs to have something to work toward. A promised land, if you will, because she believes that there must be something better than philandering. While I am willing to discuss the concept of a long term, committed EMR, MW is not. If there is no promised land, and the philandering is purely for the sake of philandering, then as far as she is concerned, she would rather not philander at all. Thus, the philandering must have a purpose or else it must stop. As a result of these beliefs, MW must believe that there is at least some possibility that she and I will be together. When she becomes convinced otherwise, then I can prepare to get dumped. Well at least long enough until her co-dependency sets in and she somehow manages to convince herself that perhaps there is some way we can be together.

During this same six month period my relationship with W went through some interesting changes. First but not foremost, my W got horny again. When my affair first began, I had showed renewed sexual interest in my W. She did not respond to my interest and as a result I felt rejected, and because of that I rejected her. At first she did not notice that I was rejecting her, but after about five or six months she finally figured out that something was different. At about the same time, she began suspecting me of having an affair. From there she turned to emotional jelly and put me through the god awful conversations filled with all the lies and denials. Eventually, she sought counseling. (That's right, on her own. The counselor kept requesting my presence, but as you know, there was no fucking way.)

Anyway, W developed a renewed interest in sex. (MW thinks it is all a game and that as soon as W feels secure again, our sex life will go back to what it was i.e. "Hop on if you must." Another possible explanation is that because of the running I was doing, I was ready to pose for underwear ads.) For my part, I was committed to MW, and no longer interested in W. So our sex life remained strained. Nevertheless, she wanted it all of a sudden. And she wanted it a lot.

The second and more significant change was that W finally accepted me for me. Whether out of fear of losing me or for another reason, my W accepted me. She liked me as a person. And she began telling me that she liked me, how she could not bear being without me. Our petty squabbles and arguments went away. After years and years of marriage, she finally stopped trying to control me and simply accepted me. It was a stunning change.

And it was very off putting. Here was this poor woman whom I had put through the emotional torture chamber and at the end of the day she was not bitter, or mad, or particularly resentful. Yeah, there were still a bunch of issues, but on the whole, it was an amazing transformation. I stopped hating my W. I tried to be nice. Our marriage might not have been anything great, but it wasn't that bad. (How is that for damned by faint praise?)

October 1999 arrived. MW and I were spending quite a lot of time together considering how far apart we live. Indeed, from the end of August to the middle of October we were together for 25 of 46 days. Occasionally, we would get to spend the night together. We were still very close, very much in love. (I love spending the night with MW, every moment a treasure.)

Unfortunately, sometime in the beginning of October MW became overwhelmed by the hopelessness of our whole situation. She suffered from a severe outbreak of the guilties, and as you can guess, this translated into bad news for me. At first she stopped hugging me and kissing me under the guise of it being too risky or the time being inappropriate. However, when the risk factors were removed and she was still reluctant to hold me, hug me or kiss me I knew I was being shut out. It was followed by a heartfelt speech. "I can not go on like this," she said. "I love you, but I can't take this any longer. I can't live this duplicitous life. If my marriage has any chance, I have to save it now. My marriage doesn't hold a candle to our relationship, so therefore, I must end our relationship. Please know how much I love you."

We had been together constantly for almost a week and she had not touched me. And now I was on the receiving end of this speech. This time, she meant it. It was over. We cried and said goodbye.

On the day we said goodbye MW went on a trip with her family and for the next four days we were unable to speak. I had gone off to visit a friend of mine in the South and as a result I had several days alone without either W or MW. Talk about depressing. It sucked. I missed MW and I could not even say "hi". I longed for the life we could have together. Thoughts of W made me sad. I felt like the undead.

Anyway I returned home late one night having been away for a week. W was in bed and I crawled in next to her. I held her and hoped to fall asleep. For whatever reason, I could not fall asleep. Next thing I know, I am stiff as a board, and I initiate sex for the first time in eons. W is thrilled. We sleep. I wake up early in the morning and screw her again.

Part 5 The Writing is on the Wall

Monday morning dawned and I dragged my emotionally drained carcass out of bed. W was happy that I was home and was especially happy that I had initiated sex twice in the past 6 hours. But I wasn't happy. I was dead.

Shortly after arriving at work my telephone rang. It was MW and it was obvious from the sound of her voice that she was hurt. The four days absence had just about killed her too.

So we talked on the phone and eased each others pain like a couple of junkies. She told me she could not live with me or without me, but for the moment, at least, she had to have me. If that meant a long term committed EMR, then so be it. The guilt could not compare to the sense of loss, so to hell with the guilt.

A week or so passed before I saw MW in person. She was beautiful as always and we were lucky enough to steal a couple of hours together. We made love, and held each other and apologized for the pain we caused each other. We were together again. Our dream was not dead.

During this visit, my W had a chance to observe MW and I together and she made a comment to a friend of ours. She said, "They are like two lost souls without each other." It's sad, but it's true and I am sorry that it is so plain to see that even my W knows it to be true. At Christmas, one of my children approached me and asked, "Dad, what did you get MW for Christmas?" I responded, "I did not get her anything." "Why not," came the reply, "She's the one you love." I thank God that W did not hear that exchange.

When MW is in the same room as me, I am powerless. I have this undeniable urge to touch her, to hold her, to be with her. I want to share my inner most thoughts, rub her back, and try to make her laugh. I want to bury my nose in the nape of her neck and smell her sweet aroma. I want to nibble her ear, hold her tight by the hair, and kiss her soft lips. Seeing her smile warms me up and brightens my entire day. I am lovestruck. And if you happen to be near us, it is obvious. We might as well be wearing neon signs that read, "Can you tell we're having an affair?"

But enough of this, space is limited and I must get to the end…

The last time I visited MW at her home was October 2000. A year had passed since the time she had broken up with me. I spent two nights at MWs house: with her, her H and her children. She and I got along great. The conversation was easy and jovial and our love for each other as strong as ever. We cooked dinner together and cleaned the dishes, we drank coffee in the morning and walked the dogs at night. We laughed and held each other. On the morning I left, we made love.

Before leaving that day I asked MW if she had any books that she thought I should read. She gave to me a copy of Graham Greene's The End of the Affair.

She dropped me at the airport and we said goodbye. While I did not know that this would be the last time we parted as lovers, in retrospect, I am not surprised.

Last May I received an email from MW in which she begged me to break up with her. She wrote, "Please Timmy let me go. Can you please find the strength to let me go? I really am begging you. Time has run out. Please call me so that we can talk about all of this in person and then let's say goodbye." So I called her and instead of saying goodbye I asked for permission to come see her (so we could break up in person). She said "ok" and so a week later I was at her house again, only this time her H was not there. We spent three nights together. It was wonderful and it was sad. The last night I held MW in my arms with tears streaming down my face. "What is wrong?" she asked. "Nothing," I lied, and then I said something innocuous like "I am just sad because we can not spend more time together."

I woke her up at six the next morning and me made love. And then I started to cry again. "Why are you crying?" she asked.

"Because we must say goodbye. We do not have a future. And I love you so much."

For the next three hours we moped around like two zombies. Tears streaming from our puffy eyes as we tried to go through our morning routines. I tried packing my suitcase and again broke down sobbing. MW held me close and she cried as well. When the hired car arrived to take me to the airport we greeted the driver with blood shot eyes and grief stricken faces. I said goodbye trying to ignore the lump in my throat and I cried all the way to the airport.

Like our other breakups, this one did not last. We spoke the next day and eased the pain. But the writing was on the wall, it was in the e mail, it began to affect our daily routine.

I retrospect there are three other factors which suggested that our affair was all but over. One was time. Our extramarital affair was entering its third year and the chance that anything dramatic was going to happen grew dimmer with each passing day. Equilibrium is death.

The second was MWs career. Whereas MWs career had once consumed maybe 25% of her time, now it consumed 110% of her time. Something had to give and increasingly it seemed as if it was her time with me.

The third and most important factor was a sort of general loss of happiness. Whereas previously our EMR had been a source of unbridled joy, our EMR became a source of frustration and fear. MW wrote, "I wish I were brave enough to leave my H to be with you. I cannot do this. I love my children more than I love myself and cannot bear the consequences of this on them. I really want things to work out the best for them and this means staying where I am with them and with H. I think I can be happy with that choice, but I won't be as long as there are three of us in this marriage. I was happy once."

Ouch! And so it was just a matter of time.

I read The End of the Affair and I believe that MW gave me this book so that I would know that she loves me. In the book, the two lovers (Sarah and Bendrix) part with each other. This parting leaves Bendrix devastated, in large part because he was under the belief that Sarah no longer loved him. As it turns out, Sarah never stopped loving Bendrix. Indeed, she thought of him every day.

MW wrote to me, "Please don't ever think that you are not important to me. Like you once told me, we will take each other to the grave. You have given me unimaginable joy and pleasure. I love you more than I ever knew I could love a man. You are everything I could ever want in a man. I will always be glad in my heart that I knew you intimately. You have made my life far better. You will also give me untold pain and heartbreak for my entire life. The thought of you going through life with someone else breaks my heart. Not having you to talk to and to hold will kill me. I am sure I will think of you and cry every day for the rest of my life."

About five weeks ago, MW and I were talking by phone. It was clear that something was upsetting MW. I asked her what was wrong. "Oh, you know, the usual stuff…"

"Is there anything I can do to help?" I asked.

"I think we need to break up," came the unwanted reply. And with that a deep silence fell on the line.

"I understand," I said. Again there was silence. After 2 and a half years there was nothing left to say. From the heights of ecstasy to the depths of despair, MW and I had ridden the roller coaster. And here we were, on the phone with nothing to say.

"Let's not belabor it, then," said MW. And with that, MW and I more or less said goodbye.

Epilogue

Since the phone call where MW and I ended our relationship I have spoken with MW on many occasions. I have also seen her in person.

About two weeks after our telephone call, MW came to visit and stayed for about four days. During this stay, we had about three hours alone, not all at once but spaced over days. We held each other and kissed each other, but we did not make love. We talked about our shattered lives and whether or not we could rebuild them. We confessed our love for each other. But it was different. The affair was over.

I want to be perfectly clear that I love MW as much today as I did previously. She is my best friend, and I do not hold any grudge against her. I offered her everything I had, and at the end of the day she could not bear to make the break. It is ok. And I know she loves me. That part is at once reassuring and sad.

I have come to believe that many EMRs suck because eventually the two parties to the EMR have two different sets of expectations. One party usually wants more out of the relationship than the other and as a result one of the parties gets hurt. Such is the nature of EMRs. Another thing that I have come to believe is that breaking up with someone you love is much like losing a loved one. Perhaps the worst part is that because the relationship is a secret relationship there is really no one with whom to mourn. (Well, except you my faithful philanderers!) So the feelings of loneliness are only compounded.

Adding to the death like nature of the split is the way in which my EMR streams through my imagination. The walks on the beach, the quiet dinners, sex in the hotel lobby, the road trip we took, the hotel rooms we defiled, holding hands in Rome, laughing our asses off as we roll around in bed... it comes flowing back as if my life is passing before my eyes. And then I see the future, and I think of all the places we have yet to see, the things we have yet to do. I see MW and I, we are holding hands, walking along a quiet path, and enjoying the sunset. Her head resting against my shoulder, her hair glinting in the sun, we are contented. Of course, this is just my imagination but the vision reminds me of the life I will not lead. Yes, something has died.

Before I forget, I have to say that I very much regret the pain that I have caused my W. She is a good woman, and she deserves better than the load of crap that I have given to her. Lately, W and I have been getting along ok and in some respects we get along better today than we did five years ago. My W finally accepts me for who I am and on my part I marvel at my Ws ability to forgive. My W is a very giving woman and if anything she is the victim in this situation. And while I love my W, I must admit that it just isn't the same. The caring, the enthusiastic conversation, the intimacy and the romance: they are all missing.

In the aftermath of my separation from MW I have been trying to avoid making any major decisions in regard to my relationship with my W. I figure that I am too emotionally unstable to do anything radical in this area at present. So I am just taking it one day at a time.

Eventually, I will have to make a choice with W. To accept our marriage for what it is or to move on. The other night I was having drinks with Shelby and she asked me, "How was your marriage at the best of times?" I looked at her cute face and had to admit that even at the best of times it was never more than "pretty good." (Thanks for being there for me, Shelby).

And so fellow philanderers, I will leave you with this thought. Despite all the pain that MW and I have caused to each other over the past two years, I remain very much in love with her and I have tried to forgive her for anything she may have done to hurt my feelings. EMRs provide for less than perfect circumstances and I rationalize our difficulties on this basis. I love MW unconditionally, and even though she may have one or two flaws, I try not to concentrate on those. And another thing, I do not regret having had this affair for a moment. Greater love I have never known and I cherish all the special times we have had. Even though this tale ends in heartbreak, I would do it again in order to experience the love, the sheer feeling of being alive. To love and know that you are loved in return.

This is the e mail from MW

Dear Sweetie,
I am extremely worried about the state of things. I know that we absolutely cannot go on this way any longer. The circle of people who are now clued in is uncomfortably large. Your lecture from (a friend) was surreal. Your W is a complete mess and we can't let her agony drag on any longer.

If you have any hope of any future with your marriage and life intact, you must leave me now and hope for the best. You can still save yourself--but barely. This is all dangerously close to blowing up, and we will fast learn what hell on earth is.

I wish I were brave enough to leave my H to be with you. I cannot do this. I love my children more than I love myself and cannot bear the consequences of this on them. I really want things to work out the best for them and this means staying where I am with them and with H. I think I can be happy with that choice, but I won't be as long as there are three of us in this marriage. I was happy once.

I am also deathly afraid that our relationship couldn't take the stress resulting from the apocalypse. We have so much going against us. Distance, where we would live, my business and livelihood, etc... Any scenario that I can conjure up is full of ugliness. I don't want to go through all of this just to lose you anyway because of the stress and ugliness.

I don't want you to go through all the hell that would erupt in your life because of this. Your parents would be livid, your friends would hate you and me, you would be treated differently by your small community of social friends. People would think you were an asshole. Your W would probably be suicidal. You can't put your kids through that--they need their mother and you.

We desperately need to give each other up, and not a moment too soon. I feel we are co-dependant. We both need to be strong for this to happen. We are both weak when it comes to this. Please do not come to see me next week. If you truly love me you will let me go. If you care more about yourself than me you won't let me go and you will exploit my weakness for you. I tell myself the same thing with respect to you. You are better off right where you are. If I broke up my family to be with you I can say with great certainty that I would regret it for the rest of my life and I would suffer with the knowledge of what a weak and selfish person I was until I died. I might even come to resent you because I would be an unhappy person looking for someone else to ease my guilt.

Please don't ever think that you are not important to me. Like you once told me, we will take each other to the grave. You have given me unimaginable joy and pleasure. I love you more than I ever knew I could love a man. You are everything I could ever want in a man. I will always be glad in my heart that I knew you intimately. You have made my life far better. You will also give me untold pain and heartbreak for my entire life. The thought of you going through life with someone else breaks my heart. Not having you to talk to and to hold will kill me. I am sure I will think of you and cry every day for the rest of my life. Please Timmy let me go. Can you please find the strength to let me go? I really am begging you. Time has run out. Please call me so that we can talk about all of this in person and then let's say goodbye.

Your love always,
Bug ©