Philosophy of Infidelity

Wrath of the Would-be Wife

2008-07-24T22:35:00.011+01:00

I told S about W's city shag pad idea.

She was not impressed.

"So, you're telling me that you turned your back on me so you could go back to your wife and live a lie? First of all I find out that you sought out another bloody mistress and now I find that your wife isn't happy either.

I thought my sacrifice, my pain, was for a reason. I thought at least you could be happy, that you could make something of your marriage. But now you are telling me that it's all been for nothing."

Uh-oh!

"She's fucking trying to have her cake and eat it!"

Interesting choice of phrase. For once those words are not aimed at me...

"She just wants to control you. She still wants you to do everything for her and be her meal ticket but she doesn't even want to be a proper wife."

OK, so I've clearly made an error here. I should have kept my mouth shut. When will I learn?

"It'll never work anyway. As soon as she meets someone she likes she'll want to kick you out. And she'll be insanely jealous every time you don't come home. She'll drive you nuts!"

Hmmm... flashes of common sense there! Yep, I think you could be right on that one.

"For fuck's sake T! For once will you look after yourself and stop living your life as a compromise for the sake of people who don't appreciate it. She doesn't love you. She doesn't deserve you. The whole thing is a bloody waste!"

Do you know what? I haven't even made it to work yet and my stress levels are through the roof.

T

An Unconventional Proposal

2008-07-22T20:08:00.015+01:00

In the years since I confessed to the affair there is no doubt that W has contemplated divorcing me.

She has also thought about ways to preserve the marriage, or at least those aspects of it that she values, whilst simultaneously being ready to change the rules in other areas.

On one occasion she went so far as to draw up a sketch proposing that our house was split into two. The idea was that we would each get half the house and the kids would be free to wander back and forth whilst she and I would be restricted to our respective zones.

I pointed out to her that she had given me no means of getting between my upstairs and downstairs rooms because she had reserved the stairs for herself.

Oh, how we laughed.

Interesting idea though! I then considered buying the house next door. I thought we might build a connecting corridor between the two homes. We could install a security device to enable the children to pass between, perhaps using an electronic fingerprint reader.

However, the neighbours seem to be staying put so that particular madcap scheme has never had the opportunity to fly.

Over Christmas 2006, presumably inspired by the joys of spending quality time with me and being forced to visit my relatives, W came up with another idea.

Here in the UK, there has been a transformation of provincial city centres in recent years. Old industrial warehouses have been converted into apartments or knocked down to make way for new office blocks. The old industrial canals have been renovated and you can now take pleasant walks along well maintained tow-paths between trendy hotels and bars.

The industrial wasteland of my youth has gone. A new and exciting city centre lifestyle beckons.

W's idea was that we would keep the house but also buy a two bedroom apartment in town. We would maintain our marriage on a functional basis but each of us would be allowed to pursue "outside interests". We would each be allocated one or two nights a week when we would not be required to return to the family home and we would be free to go the city pad to do whatever we liked.

I know that some married couples manage to agree on unconventional arrangements in order to avoid the horrors of divorce and preserve families. There all kinds of weird arrangements out there. I sometimes read about them here in blogland.

I was intrigued.

But I was also concerned that this was not a proposal that I could evaluate objectively on my own. A certain part of my brain (or perhaps it was another part of my anatomy) couldn't stop thinking: So, I can regularly fuck whoever I like in our city shag pad and you won't mind? Wahey!!!!

I was in serious danger of being sucked into La-la-land. I needed someone to help me think it through; someone who could be independent and objective; someone who had my own best interests at heart.

As I drove into work early one morning in January 2007, my head buzzing with possibilities, the phone rang.

It really wish it had been C that called, or perhaps my pal Dave, or even my sister. In fact, I wish it had been anybody at all other than the person who was actually calling.

It was S...

T

Mistress Condemns Adulterers

2008-07-21T18:28:00.002+01:00

One of the wonderful things about an affair conducted within a secret bubble is that you don't have to put up with any real world shit.

There is no need to worry about the bank balance, the problems the kids are having at school or your spouse's drinking problem. As you float around in your bubble of bliss there's no need to bicker about who is not pulling their weight around the house, where to go on holiday or which relatives to visit at Christmas.

There's nothing to irritate you, nothing to argue about, no tension. Just great sex and mutual adoration.

Sheer luxury!

Take care dear readers, lest your bubble bursts and exposes you and your lover to the horrors of the real world.

My bubble had burst. Cruel fate was preparing to kick my arse.

I visited Newville again, this time when S was not alone. I arrived at about 6pm for an overnight stay. S introduced me to E for the first time.

S was annoyed because C had gone out for a drink with work colleagues until later in the evening. I never quite understood why but S had wanted all three of them to be there when I arrived.

"She's supposed to be your friend and she should be here if you are coming round."

I didn't mind. I had seen C many times over the previous three years but I had only occasionally seen S. I wanted to spend time with her. She was my drug.

S and I sat on the sofa and chatted with E. A lot of wine was consumed.

I gave S a Christmas present, a gold necklace with a diamond pendant. It wasn't particularly expensive but nonetheless I was slightly put out when E commented that the diamond wasn't very large. S defended me though. She said it was lovely and I really felt she meant it.

By the time C came back to the house, some time after 9pm, I was a little drunk and I suspect she was too.

C, so it seemed to me, was dressed to impress. You could say she was "dolled up". This was not entirely a surprise as I knew her marriage was collapsing and that she had more than one male distraction buzzing around.

We had not seen one another for some weeks and she immediately threw her arms around me and gave me an affectionate hug. I reciprocated but nervously since I could feel S's eyes burning into my back.

C sat at my feet and leant against my legs. There was drunken conversation, I can't remember any specifics.

Later, C and E went to bed, leaving me alone with S.

S was not happy. She told me that she regarded C's affectionate behaviour as being wholly inappropriate. I was scolded for not ensuring that C was seated in a place where there was no physical contact.

I could kind of see her point but I tried to reassure S that my relationship with C was not sexual and never had been.

But she did not relent. I realised that this was one of those occasions where it is best not to argue. I was a little too drunk and frankly I just wanted her to shut up. I stopped defending myself and C in the hope that once S had made her point she would let it go.

But she went on and on.

Bizarrely, S even began to take a moral stance on adultery. She declared that C's behaviour in having relationships with other men, some of them married, whilst still returning to her own marital home at weekends, was immoral. She claimed that she would never behave in such a way.

I pointed out to S that during the previous five years she had cheated on three long term boyfriends by sleeping with me, a married man. She had still been living with one such boyfriend on one of those occasions.

This fact was cast aside. She was in no mood to acknowledge hypocrisy.

I slept alone in S's bed that night. S chose to bunk in with E, presumably in order to make a point.

I might have stared at he ceiling and contemplated the fact that my (ex-)mistress now seemed to be subjecting me to grief in much the same way that my wife did.

But I didn't. At that moment I was too drunk to make sense of the world. I simply feel asleep.

Early the following morning, S stood on the first step at the bottom of the stairs as I kissed her goodbye before setting off on my long journey to work. This was a ritual we had performed countless times during the time we had known one another.

The moment was less passionate than previous occasions. However, there was still the usual sadness and frustration.

I did not know it at the time but it was to be the last time I ever saw her.

It was not, however, the end of the story.

T

Status Report

2008-07-19T21:47:00.006+01:00

Something happened a couple of days ago that spooked me and caused me to take my blog offline.

It was something and nothing really. But it was enough to frighten me and to remind me of the dangers of writing a confessional blog, albeit anonymously.

For the time being I have removed most of my historical posts which means the blog may not make much sense to new readers and a lot of the links will be temporarily broken. I hope to restore the complete service shortly.

Thank you to all those people who emailed me to express their concern. It's good to know there are so many people out there who get something out of my writing.

T

Nostalgia

2008-07-14T21:30:00.008+01:00

I do love the Mamma Mia musical which is in cinemas at the moment.

It is said that part of its success (and that of the stage version which preceded it) is its ability to evoke joyful nostalgia.

Hmmm... I'm not so sure sure about the "joyful" bit...

I first saw it on the London stage in November 2002, whilst S was in Australia.

It was an awful time because W and I were contemplating separation. I remember glancing at her during the performance of The Winner Takes It All, a song about divorce. She was in floods of tears and I felt desolate.

Fortunately, seeing the film version recently was a much happier event. It had the intended effect on me: I was filled with joy and optimism and afterwards I gave W a hug in the foyer. If she remembered the previous occasion she didn't mention it.

T

P.S. Just 'cos I like films like this doesn't make me gay, OK!

P.P.S. If I am honest, my own musical production based upon the songs of a popular music act (still in development) may not be as good as the wonderful Mamma Mia. As I have previously mentioned on this blog, my creation will be called "Can I Sit Next to You Girl?" and it will be based on the songs of AC/DC. It will, however, be better than Ben Elton's truly appalling "We Will Rock You".

Secret Bubble Bursts

2008-07-10T20:47:00.027+01:00

S, in common with my other mistresses who came later, had no place in my every day life. We met through the internet and our real world paths never crossed. We had no common acquaintances, we worked for different companies in different industries and we lived in different communities.

Affairs often exist within a secret bubble, an alternate reality where no one else exists but you and your lover. You don't socialise as a couple because you can't. If you encounter other human beings when you are together then it is only a waitress in a restaurant or a barman in a hotel, mere extras in your personal romantic drama.

Your affair may last for years. You may think that you know your lover incredibly well. Perhaps you believe you have attained the deepest possible emotional intimacy.

However, you may not realise it, but because of the restricted nature of your bubble there are things that you may have missed. In relationships we do not just learn from the way we interact with one another but also by observing how our partners interact with other people.

S and I were alone in our bubble for five years. It persisted throughout the periods in which we suspended the physical affair, whilst we continued our secret friendship, greedily clutching onto our love.

Inside the bubble, whether the physical affair was active or not, S and I were supremely confident in one another's love. In fact, we were arrogant about it. We considered it to be stronger and deeper than that experienced by mere mortals in the real world. We believed our emotional understanding was unprecedented, almost telepathic.

We were seriously smug!

And then C moved to Newville. C was part of my real world and by becoming S's lodger she also became part of S's real world.

Furthermore, C wasn't just an ordinary mutual acquaintance. She was my confidante.

Throughout my affair with S, in the days before I understood what a blog was, C was the one who helped to keep me sane (I use the term relatively of course, but believe me, without her I would have been even crazier at times). In some ways I was more honest with C than with S. For example, I could openly discuss my hopes and fears for the future with her. I could debate with her the pros and cons of staying within my marriage, the risks that a future real world relationship with S might fail and my concern that my continued friendship with S was damaging for both of us. These topics were so emotive for S that it was not practical to discuss them freely with her.

It is now obvious to me that for such a close confidante and a mistress to even know one another, let alone live together in the same house, is bound to create tension.

At that time I was still being harassed by the husband of B, a woman with whom I had a brief affair during 2005. I was so stressed that I found myself sharing the story with S.

So far as I was concerned, B was not important. I had not been in love with her and I had only slept with her twice. I explained this to S. I wanted to tell her because I held a deep belief that part of the strength of our relationship was that we had no secrets and also because I wanted sympathy as I grappled with the problem of the mad husband.

S gave me the impression she was cool about the whole thing. This was as I had expected. After all, as we often reassured ourselves within our bubble, we were both supremely confident in one another's love. So why would she be threatened by such a thing?

However, the fundamental truth of the bubble was not the fundamental truth of the real world. It turned out she was far more insecure than I thought.

She was rattled.

She decided to corroborate my story by questioning C about my affair with B.

Poor C found herself in a difficult position. She did not believe in my crazy "no secrets from lovers" policy and when S confronted her I don't think she could believe what she was hearing.

She didn't want to say anything that would cause S to cry foul. Consequently, she was evasive and her evasiveness was obvious to S.

S concluded that I was sharing deeply personal information with her lodger that I was not willing to share with her.

She was not a happy bunny.

In an angry phone call, S made it very clear to me that she disapproved of my friendship with C. Separately, C complained to me that S was putting her in an impossible position.

* sigh *

Do you know what? Even though I say this myself and despite the foolishness described above, I actually consider myself to be quite an intelligent guy. The last time I took an IQ test, I was very pleased with my score.

However, I am not good at chess.

This is because I am always too lazy (or perhaps too reckless) to think more than a couple of moves ahead.

Poor C! I had moved her into the danger zone and now a rampant queen was thirsty for her blood.

T

Sex with the Ex

2008-07-05T17:15:00.016+01:00

As it happened, the first time I went to Newville was over a weekend. Consequently, C and E were home with their husbands and S and I were alone.

S was at a milestone in her life. It was a moment to reflect upon personal achievement and narrow escapes. She had managed to bring an unsuccessful relationship safely to an end, despite her ex self-destructing; with a little help from me she had managed to secure her house in her own name; and her career was advancing thanks to a promotion.

During the previous three years we had redefined ourselves as friends, not lovers. For the most part, my role had been that of supportive counsellor (or, as I sometimes feared, parent) as she went though various traumas in her career and her relationship.

To me, the visit represented a welcome island of respite amongst the stormy seas of our five-year relationship.

Her house was beautiful. She had a flair for interior design and she had stamped her authority upon it. It felt like a home.

It seemed she had also developed her gardening skills. We sat and talked in her conservatory, admiring her garden and drinking cups of tea. It had been well over a year since we had actually met face to face and we were both a little nervous.

"You look a little older... more distinguished." she said.

"Do I...? I'll guess I'll have to take that as a complement. You look beautiful."

And she did. Her hair was straighter than I remembered, a darker blonde. Her eyes sparkled and her voice was as melodic as ever.

She was wearing the ring I had bought her years before.

I can't remember much of what we talked about. Just life; our lives; our struggles. Big things; little things.

In my role of reluctant father-figure, I reminded her of the importance of saving for her pension. This was a recurring theme for us. Once, in an attempt to get her to begin a private pension plan I had sent her a cheque as an initial contribution but, when the crisis over her boyfriend's gambling occurred, the money had gone to towards buying the house.

"You haven't got any news for me then?" she asked.

"No... nothing you don't already know. I just wanted to see you and the house."

It wasn't until afterwards that I thought about this exchange. I now realise she had been hoping for more, perhaps for me to reveal that I had failed in my long quest to make the best of my marriage: the forlorn hope of the single mistress.

She was, after all, at a point in her life where she had to start again. If my marriage had collapsed at that moment it would have been, well..., perfect timing.

She prepared a meal for me. This was something that had rarely happened before. In the old days we had not had time for such domesticity, concentrating instead on takeaway food and sex.

She was a good cook, no doubt about it.

I stayed over. The agreement had been that we would not sleep together. And then she decided that we could sleep in the same bed but there would be no touching.

But then there was touching...

If I was a stronger man then I would not have allowed it to happen. Had I properly analysed our earlier conversation and realised that, from her point of view, this was so much more than incidental sex between two former lovers, then I might not have gone through with it.

But then again, the reality is that I was as horny as hell and she excited me like no other woman on earth. Lust was always going to override common sense.

I remember that at the moment of my climax our eyes were locked together.

I withdrew and came over here stomach and breasts.

"Chicken!" she exclaimed.

She was smiling. But there was disappointment in her voice as well. I knew she was not on the pill and I did not need to be reminded that she wanted children.

My withdrawal symbolised everything she wanted from me but which I could not give.

T

The Witches of Eastwick Newville

2008-07-03T07:00:00.010+01:00

I was aware that the household containing the ex-mistress, the best friend and the almost-mistress was a dangerous melting pot with seriously explosive potential.

But I didn't let that worry me.

I love to observe the absurd, the insane and the unpredictable. I also love women.

I like to think that I am not normally susceptible to egotism but I would challenge any man not to get off on a scenario like this. I was simply enthralled by the possibilities.

I remember a telephone conversation with S one evening during December 2006. I could hear music playing and girly giggles in the background. The ladies were decorating the tree.

S was on good form, her positivity and sense of humour sparkling as brightly as ever.

I could hear a male voice too. S explained that Kevin, her next door neighbour, had popped round and they had offered him a glass of wine. I recalled that in a conversation some months earlier she had speculated that her neighbour had a bit of a thing for her. I silently wondered if this was the same guy.

"You should come and see us!" she said.

"Yes, it sounds like you are having fun. I'm not sure if I could handle you all at once though. I might be eaten alive!"

"Oh, I'm sure we'd be gentle," she laughed.

The idea was irresistible. If there was a tiny part of my brain that was urging caution, logic or a careful analysis of the risks then it was instantly drowned out by primeval desire.

Primeval T wanted to go to Newville and fuck 'em all!

"I'd love to come and see you."

T

Mystery Shopper

2008-07-02T14:00:00.013+01:00

A man in a business suit queued up at the supermarket checkout.

As he unloaded his chosen items he wondered what a casual observer might think of the contents of his shopping basket:

minty-fresh chewing gum;
strawberries;
cans of pre-mixed gin and tonic;
bunch of flowers;
bottle of lube.

He paid cash and dropped the receipt into a rubbish bin on the way out.

If the other shoppers were particularly observant they might have noticed that the mystery shopper wore a smile of expectation.

It was as though he had a special treat to look forward to...

T

Throwing Petrol onto the Flames

2008-06-30T19:44:00.015+01:00

A few months prior to our conversation about her new job in Newville, C and I were discussing a very different topic.

She was having a go at matchmaking.

This was a period during which S and I managed to abstain from the physical affair although we remained in touch and we occasionally met for a drink or a bite to eat. It was the time when I had brief affairs with B and the MILF. I also distracted myself with a number of other sexually experimental but emotionally inconsequential encounters.

C had a friend, a female work colleague, who was married, frustrated and looking for an affair. C thought we might hit it off. On this blog, I refer to this lady as "E".

I was initially reluctant but C provoked my curiosity by suggesting that E was as crazy as I was and also that she had a latex fetish.

Well, how could I pass on that one?

C provided me with E's mobile phone number. E and I began to exchange flirty texts.

E had potential. She had some spark, a sense of humour and she seemed suitably naughty. She was a successful career woman with the toughness and drive to kick ass and get on in this so called man's world. I liked that.

But the reality is that my heart wasn't in it. I was still suffering fallout from my affair with B (angry husband issues) and not even the lure of a lusty, latex-clad lady could tempt me back into the world of adultery.

It fizzled out. E was the mistress who never was. I never even met her.

Well, not at that time anyway.

I didn't meet her until later.

Shortly after C took her new job in Newville, E also got a job at the same place.

And guess what?

Yep!

S took in a second lodger...

T

Playing With Fire

2008-06-29T21:10:00.014+01:00

C called me.

"I've got a new job," she said.

I was impressed. A couple of months earlier she had walked out on her previous employer without having anything else lined up. I had been shocked and concerned. I rarely change jobs and I could not imagine walking out without having the next opportunity in place.

Anyway, C got away with it. She had recharged her batteries and was hopping right back onto the corporate conveyor belt as if nothing had happened.

"It's in Newville."*

"Oh really? Newville? That's too far for you to commute isn't it?"

"I know. I'll rent a flat or something. I'll stay away four nights a week. They'll let me work from home on Fridays."

Now, I like to think of myself as a man of the world. I think I've been round the block a few times and, by and large, I think I know how things work. In particular, I like to think I understand women. Well, more than the average guy in the street anyway.

I like women. Some women, I like a lot! My best friends are women, C in particular. I am more comfortable in the company of women than men.

I am a woman's man.

I am also prone to over-confidence and shooting from the hip.

"You do realise that S lives in Newville don't you? She is looking for a lodger now that she has thrown her boyfriend out?"

"Hmmm... Do you think she would have me? Isn't she jealous of our friendship?"

"Don't be ridiculous. She thinks you are great!"

I was delighted with the idea.

My logic ran like this:

I love S. I think she is wonderful. Because I think she is wonderful then the whole world will think she is wonderful, including C. I love C (in a platonic way since she has always refused to allow me into her knickers). C is fantastic. S is bound to think she is fantastic too.

If I put my favourite ex-mistress and my favourite platonic female friend together then they will like each other as much as I like them!

Well, that's good logic, don't you think?

T

* Name of town changed to protect the privacy of the innocent and the guilty.

Nanny State

2008-06-26T23:37:00.011+01:00

I am in a bad mood so I am going to lash out a bit. Most of my readers are female so I will probably get flamed but I don't care.

UK readers will know of Harriet Harmen, our so called "Equality Minister".

Today she announced a new equality bill, which, among other things, is designed to put yet more pressure on British employers to ensure that woman achieve equal pay. One of the ways she will enable this is via a practice known as "positive discrimination" (a form of inequality).

My dear Harriet, you really are a stupid cow. Don't you realise that men need to earn more so that they can still afford to pay the rent on their dingy bed-sits after their bloody ex-wives have taken everything else via their fucking maintenance payments?

Why don't you just piss off? I can't wait for the next election when you will be cast into obscurity and I will never have to hear your irritating voice on the radio again.

It's time men stood up for themselves. This equality shit is getting out of hand.

T

Loving Gift or Debt Settled?

2008-06-24T13:41:00.011+01:00

I “lent” her the money.

I never expected to get it back and I know I never will.

I think there were lots of emotions running around inside both our heads in relation to the loan, some positive, others negative.

Looking back, I think that the loan probably was the point when I began to realise that S and I had done so much damage to each other over the years that we would be severely hampered if we ever did become a couple in the real world. I think there can come a point in a relationship where so much crap has flowed under the bridge that the pollution will be ever present.

Shortly after I had sent her the cheque, S asked me a question.

“In your mind, that makes us even doesn’t it? You think you have fulfilled your obligations to me don’t you?”

I was surprised.

I think I understand how she was looking at it. In her view I had made a commitment to her that I would leave my wife to be with her and I had failed to deliver. Because of my failure she felt I “owed” her something, some kind of compensation. Indeed, in arguments at the time and later I remember her screaming the words of outrage: “YOU OWE ME!”

I didn’t see it like that. To my way of thinking we both contemplated a relationship, which didn’t come off. In my paradigm, a person is always free to leave a relationship if that is what they want to do. After all, of the five major splits that S and I went through during our story, she was the one who ended it on three of those occasions. When she did so, I never came to the conclusion that she had no right to walk away.

Basically, until the point of marriage, anyone retains their right to be true to themselves and to exercise their own free will.

The reason I lent (gave) S the money was because I loved her and I could not bear the thought of her losing her house and her own money because of her boyfriend’s insane gambling addiction. Personal security was very important to S and I wanted her to have it.

I was “looking after her”. It is instinctive for a man to provide security for a woman. I may not have been in a position to live with her but I still felt a desire to make sure that she was comfortable and safe. In my crazy mind she was a kind of "wife in absentia" and should be treated accordingly.

I remember reviewing my own feelings after I had sent the cheque. I knew perfectly well that some people might think I was stupid and gullible. I knew that if W ever found out then I would be in extremely serious doo-doo.

I had been worried that I would not feel good about what I had done. But that wasn’t the case. S bought her boyfriend out of the house and became its sole owner. She was secure. I was relieved and happy to have been able to make this possible for her.

I was concerned about her “you owe me” attitude though. I knew that was not healthy. I knew it was an indication that, deep down, she was angry and resentful towards me.

Nonetheless, at the time, she was lovely about it. She expressed her gratitude very positively as she always did. Her appreciation of a gift always struck me because it was in such sharp contrast to W’s corresponding indifference.

S lives in the same house to this day and I would not have it any other way.

T

What a Fucking Loser!

2008-06-22T20:36:00.012+01:00

This post describes events which occurred after Moving On. It was during a period in which S and I were no longer conducting a physical affair although we often spoke and occasionally met. We pretended to one another that we were just friends but I am in no doubt that an independent observer would say that we were continuing to have an emotional affair.

One of the things I could never understand about S was why some high flying bloke had not swept her off her feet and married her years ago. So far as I was concerned, she was one hell of a woman. She was intelligent, funny and seriously sexy. How come she was still on the market?

A possible explanation is that, when it came down to it, her choice of men was utterly pathetic.

For example, it turned out that the guy for whom S sold her house, gave up her job and moved to another part of the country had a gambling problem.

He didn't try to hide it from her at first. I remember her telling me during a telephone conversation shortly after they had bought a house together that he was in the habit of gambling on-line. She was alarmed but I think she was hoping that I would back up his explanation, a story she wanted to believe.

She told me that he was a serious gambler but he knew what he was doing. She explained that he researched his bets carefully and that he had "a system". He knew how to hedge his bets by placing other bets which ran counter to his main one in order to mitigate his risk.

"Oh really" said I, not really believing this guy's bullshit and wondering how I could change the topic to something more interesting.

I don't have a weakness for gambling. It has never interested me. I even tend to avoid sweepstakes at work and I get irritated with W's penchant for penny slot machines at the seaside.

"He sometimes bets over £1000 on one sporting event," she said.

"Fucking hell!"

Now she had my attention. This guy had never been wealthy. He did not have a particularly well paid job. He and S jointly owned an ordinary house with a significant mortgage outstanding.

Personally, I could not imagine placing a £1,000 bet even if I was loaded!

Over time it became clear that his habit was sliding out of control. He admitted to her that he had lost £3,000 in a single week. She began to become seriously concerned. With his agreement she took away his laptop and stored it at work.

But he acquired another one which she found hidden in the garden shed.

She persuaded him to go to Gamblers Anonymous. He went a couple of times but then declared that the other guys he met there had lost their houses and their families and so, comparatively speaking, he didn't have a problem.

She found paperwork left lying around revealing he had taken out a £20,000 loan in addition to his mortgage. He also had thousands owing on credit cards.

It eventually became clear he had lost something exceeding £60,000 over a two year period. This was money he did not have. His annual losses on gambling alone exceeded his income.

She became afraid that she could lose her house. She decided that she wanted to be financially disentangled from him. She looked into the possibility of buying him out.

Fortuitously, she got a promotion at work. She had more income and a company car, which meant she was able to sell her own. Her boss helped her arrange a more competitive mortgage.

But she was still £10,000 short.

I knew what was coming next. I could see it coming weeks before it actually happened.

"Will you lend it to me?"

T

How Many Single Mistresses Get Their Man?

2008-06-17T00:01:00.002+01:00

By popular demand I am launching a survey to see how many single mistresses get their man.

Instructions

There are two polls: one for single mistresses who have had affairs with married men and one for married men who have had affairs with single women. Please only vote in the poll that is applicable to you.

Please select the voting option which is the closest fit with your experience during the affair.

If you have been involved in more than one affair of this type then you may vote once for each affair. I have allowed multiple votes per person in this poll for this reason. Please do not vote more than once per affair.

If your affair is not yet over then you can't vote unless you are sure what the outcome is going to be.

There is an “other” vote just in case I have not covered all outcomes.

Please post a comment sharing your thoughts and experiences on the topic of the single mistress getting her man! I want to gather as many experiences as possible.

At this stage, the poll does not concern itself with the longevity of the relationship if she gets her married man. I plan to explore that topic separately.

I was a single mistress and who had an affair with a married man and … ( surveys)

I was a married man who had an affair with a single woman and … ( polls)

Wrath of the Would-be Bridesmaid

2008-06-16T12:00:00.002+01:00

I mentioned in a comment to the Hell Hath No Fury post that there was no recurrence of W telling the kids that I didn't want them and that I was leaving to be with another woman.

That said, she perpetuated a softer version of her story for a while before it was properly corrected.

Apple of Daddy's Eye #2 went to visit one of her friends.

Friend's mother listened in on the conversation between five year old girls. Apple #2 was apparently putting a positive slant on recent events.

"My daddy's got a new girlfriend. He's going to get married and I'm going to be a bridesmaid!"

I had never suggested anything of the sort.

Later, after the Lowest Night, it became clear that W had brought the kids up to date when Apple #2 came to me and and the following exchange occurred.

"Daddy. Your new girlfriend... is she not your friend any more?"

"Er... no. I'm not going to be seeing her any more."

Apple #2 looked put out. She looked at me sternly and sighed.

"Hmrmph!"

She stomped off and resumed playing with her Polly Pocket collection.

To this day I do not know for sure whether she was annoyed because of the trouble I had caused or because she was losing out on being a bridesmaid.

T

The Lowest Night of My Life

2008-06-13T08:40:00.003+01:00

When it came to ending my affair with S, I decided to do it by phone. This, I reasoned, was better than S's own favoured mode of communication for dumping me: the text message. I wasn't brave enough for a face to face meeting, not least because I suspected she was capable of creating just as big a scene as W on the night of the confession.

This wasn't going to be my finest hour. However, when dirty work has to be done you just have to get on with it.

I drove to her house when I knew she would be at work. I let myself in, collected all of my things and loaded them into the car. I left cash to cover the first year of the satellite tv subscription she had signed up for. I posted her house key back through the letterbox and I drove away.

Then I started phoning her. As it happened, she was not available for most of the day so I didn't get to speak to her until it was time for her to leave the office. In a way, I think this was good because it meant she didn't have to deal with it in front of her work colleagues.

I don't think I did it in a very subtle way. Perhaps I should have thought more about how to do it more gently but how do you sugar coat one of the shittiest messages it is possible to deliver?

I got straight to the point. I told her that I needed to go back to my wife and family and that I was ending our relationship.

"What about your things?"

"I've been and collected them. I've left my key."

She was in tears.

"I can't believe it! I can't believe you would do this to me. I thought you loved me."

"I did love you. I do love you. But that isn't really the point. I, we, you, me, it's got out of hand. I can't leave my family. I just can't okay. It would destroy me. I wouldn't be the person you know if I destroyed my family. It isn't what I want. I can't do it."

The conversation ended.

I remember thinking that it hadn't gone particularly well but at least it was over and done with.

But it wasn't over. As I drove home I received a text.

'I can't go on. I no longer have anything to live for.'

And then: 'You won't hear from me again. This is the end.'

I felt sick in my stomach. I tried to call her. She didn't answer. I texted her. No response.

When I got home I told W that I had ended it with S but that she had not taken it well and I was worried about her. I explained that I did not expect or want her understanding but I needed to call S again to make sure that she was OK.

To my surprise, W told me that in this marriage we were a team and that we would stand and fall as a team.

I looked at her in surprise. I had expected hostility.

But W's offer of solidarity was not real. Instead, she chose to opt out from reality. She went into the kitchen and poured herself a very large gin and tonic.

I called S again and she finally answered.

"Where are you?"

"In a hotel. I couldn't go home. How could I go home to that house with all your things gone?"

"You should be with someone who can look after you. Go to your sister's house or Gina's."

Gina was a close and sympathetic friend who knew about me.

"No. I want to be alone. You've destroyed me. I can't recover from this."

"Don't be like that. You're a fantastic person and you have said yourself that you have grown from what we have experienced."

"How can I find happiness after I had it and then you took it away? Why do you think I was alone for so many years? Why do you think I never married again?"

"Oh please don't talk like that, especially when you are on your own."

"I wanted something... someone... exceptional!"

"Look, please will you call Gina. Give me her number. I will call her."

"My battery is running out. This is the end. I don't want to go on after this."

"Listen, you're scaring me now. Don't do this. You know that's not you. Tell me where you are. I'll come to you."

"No. You don't need to know."

"You are really worrying me now."

She hung up.

I turned to W. I didn't know whether to take S seriously or not. I needed to talk to a sane person.

It was at this point that I realised that W had already drunk a very large amount of gin. She was barely conscious.

"Ish your shtoopid girlfriend okay?"

"Not really. Are you okay? What have you had to drink?"

"Jush shome gin 'n' tonic..."

"Oh, for fuck's sake!"

W collapsed onto the sofa and within a few minutes she lost consciousness.

I tried to call S again. No response.

I texted her. No response.

What should I do?

Should I call the police? What would I say if I did call the police? They would probably suspect, as I did, that S was simply being over-dramatic. They would probably not be able to do anything about it. No one knew where she was.

I rang again. And again.

Eventually she answered.

"My battery has almost gone. This is the last time you will ever speak to me. There is nothing you can do."

She hung up.

I sat in silence in my living room. To my left, my wife had passed out. My children were upstairs asleep. My mistress was somewhere, alone and apparently intent on harming herself.

My life was an absolute fucking disaster zone.

'Do you know what?' I suddenly thought to myself. 'I'm tired. Too bloody tired. I need some sleep and I need to get a grip and stop letting these bloody women give me the run around.'

Deep down, I knew S was not going to hurt herself. There was something about her behaviour, especially the last exchange, which made me certain that it was nothing more than desperate histrionics. She was just trying to frighten me.

There was an angry voice in my head. It was the voice of a tired and exasperated man who could not cope with the pathetic situation created by a combination of two crazy women and his own weakness.

The angry voice dismissed any lingering concern that S might harm herself.

I went to bed to catch up on some much needed sleep.

T

Red Mist

2008-06-12T15:56:00.005+01:00

No new post today, just a link to a long rant in response to a comment on a recent post.

Dear Single Mistresses,

I'm sorry if I have over-generalised. I don't really mean to tar you all with the same brush. I hope you know I have lots of respect and sympathy for many of you.

I did love S very much and my guilt at hurting her has been the main source of inspiration for this blog. However, I do think single mistresses have to take their share of the responsibility for their own pain and the pain of others. S, no matter how much I loved her, was no exception.

T

Life Goes On

2008-06-11T14:57:00.015+01:00

I know this blog has made for heavy reading lately.

I was going to publish another troublesome post today but I can't bring myself to do it. I can tell from the comments that some of you are finding it emotionally draining and I can assure you it is even more exhausting to write this stuff. As I write each episode I have inevitably found myself reconnecting with the emotions of the time. It's a bit like being sick - you feel better afterwards but the act of doing it is very unpleasant!

And so today, instead of another episode of doom from the past, I bring brighter news which I believe acts as a reminder to us that the human spirit is resilient and that the future can always be brighter.

I think I have mentioned previously that my friend C has another friend who is in turn a good friend to S. On Monday I learned via this route that S is getting engaged to a man she met late last year.

Aside from being uplifting, S's news has also served as a test for me. I know that C relayed the information to me with some trepidation because she knows of my history with S and she was not sure how well I would handle it.

But, do you know what? I'm okay. Yes, I have a mild sadness brought on by "what might have been" feelings but that is only to be expected. I also have feelings of relief. You see, I have carried a lasting feeling of responsibility for S and her well being. I think the news goes some way towards helping me let go of that.

I hope that S is very happy. I hope her fiancé is a good man and that he gives her the security and the love that she needs and deserves. I also hope it is not too late for her to have children.

So, there is hope. I say this especially to those single mistresses, past and present, who read my blog. There can be a bright future: a future free of frustration, free of loneliness, a future free of the insanity of an affair with a married man.

It may not seem that way at times, but it is true.

T

Lost and Alone

2008-06-10T17:33:00.004+01:00

W and I spent the day talking. Nothing was resolved but it was part of a necessary process. W needed to learn about the affair, to understand what had happened, to get her perspective back. It was the beginning of a long journey.

Afterwards, I did what I should have done before I went to S's house. I went somewhere neutral. I told S that I needed to spend some time on my own. She was very supportive. I think she knew that I was in a terrible state emotionally and that I needed to get my head straight.

I spent several nights in hotels. Later I bit the bullet and moved in at my parents house, not an easy thing for me.

I have never felt so isolated as I did during those days and weeks following the confession.

W had told all of our friends her version of the story during the first weekend. I am certain that it was a deliberate attempt to demonise me. I later found out that she only stopped doing this when her mother, for whom I can rarely spare a good word, had the good sense to tell her to shut up before she did any more damage. I was truly grateful to the old witch for this.

I was also taken aback by the kindness and understanding of my sister. I rang her in Scotland to tell her what had happened and she was very supportive, not what I had expected as we had never been close siblings. After the call I broke down and cried. I think it was the relief of realising I had the loving sympathy of someone who neither hated me nor wanted a piece of me.

W and I continued our relationship counselling. The confession had provided the shock that caused W to begin communicating honestly about her feelings and what was wrong with our marriage. The anger and resentment began to flow. Initially this was about the affair but it was amazing how quickly she began to focus on the underlying issues. The cork was out of the bottle!

Interestingly, W did not put pressure on me to get rid of S. She told me that she was not sure she wanted me back and therefore she felt that, for my own sake, S should not be discarded. I was not sure that I believed this was her real view and I remain unsure to this day. I have a theory that she wanted me and me alone to make an unpressurised decision to dump S so that she knew I was fully committed to the marriage.

I came to the conclusion that I wanted to keep my wife and my children. I had stared over the precipice of separation and I didn't like what I saw. It was time to fight for W.

And this meant the mistress had to go.

T

The Brief Period of My Marriage When I Lived With Another Woman

2008-06-09T16:46:00.009+01:00

At the time of my confession I believe I was suffering from temporary "madness" characterised by two catastrophic behavioural defects:

(1) I was being open and honest with both W and S; and
(2) I had stopped trying to control or influence events and instead I was allowing them to happen to me.

This madness continued for two more days after I was ejected from the marital home.

Upon my arrival at her house, S interviewed me in order to establish the full facts of my confession and W's subsequent reaction. She concluded that W was extremely angry and was therefore unlikely to be seeking reconciliation.

I was completely numb. I didn't know what to think.

It was Saturday early in January so neither of us had to go to work. We went shopping. S resentfully reminded me that I had not bought her anything for her birthday or for Christmas. In order to make amends, I found myself buying her perfume and jewellery.

S seemed to forget her assurance of the previous night, that she would not make any assumptions or read anything in to my arrival.

She signed up for a subscription to satellite television.

"We both like Animal Planet don't we?" she said, brightly.

I bought a mobile phone for my kids.

S brought up the topic of divorce and marriage.

"Do you think your marriage is over?"

"It looks that way."

"Well, I wouldn't take you back if you did to me what you have done to her."

I still felt numb. I also felt homeless. S's house was not my home. Her town was not my town. My children weren't there. I felt lost, like a fish out of water.

"Do you think the divorce will take long?"

"I have no idea."

"You shouldn't let it drag on. The longer it drags on the more she will be able to hurt you."

I looked at her blankly.

"I expect that we will be married within a year," she continued. "There is no point waiting. I don't believe in long engagements. There's no point."

"I suppose it's possible," I said, meaning that I imagined that it may be practically possible to go through the necessary legal processes to complete a divorce and a marriage in such a time scale.

I wasn't actually contemplating such a course of action. I wasn't capable of contemplating anything. I was in shock. I didn't know what I wanted. I didn't know what was for the best. I didn't know how to get W to calm down or how to prevent her from saying anything else damaging to the kids. I didn't know what to do about S as she planned our future, so I allowed her to continue.

After all, I did love her and maybe her way would prove to be the true path to happiness.

I bumbled around like a zombie for the remainder of the weekend. S remained bright and cheerful. I am sure she could tell I was in a daze. I guess she concluded that the best thing to do was to gee me along in her preferred direction in the hope that I would snap out of it.

On the Sunday night at 3am, W called me on my mobile phone. S and I woke up.

"You'd better answer it," she said.

I answered the phone as S pulled on her dressing gown and went downstairs to the kitchen.

"Hello."

"Husby...?"

"What do you want?"

"You. Come here. Come home."

I could hear S in the kitchen below. She was emptying the dishwasher and putting things back in the cupboard.

The spineless policy of doing what the wife and the mistress tell you to do only works for so long. And this moment, dear readers, was the point at which it stopped working. You see, it all goes pear-shaped when the ladies choose to want different things.

"I am sat here with puss weeping from the wound you inflicted to my left arm when I was last at home. As a result I have come to her house, a place where I am not considered to be the personification of the devil, and you are suggesting that I should get up in the middle of the night and come home? No. I am not going to do that."

"Why not?"

"Because I don't want her to gouge my right arm so it matches my left, that's why. I'll come in the morning."

The phone call ended and S came back to bed.

"What did she want?"

"Oh, not a lot. She can't sleep and she's still angry."

As my head hit the pillow it suddenly occurred to me that W and S had switched roles. I was now lying to the mistress about my secret intention to meet the wife.

Still, there was cause for optimism. If I was lying then I was trying to influence events again. The madness was over. It was time to retake control of my life.

The following morning, I had a shower, put on my suit, kissed the mistress and told her that I was going to work.

And then I got into the car and drove to my wife's house.

T

If you go down to the woods today...

2008-06-07T09:56:00.008+01:00

Here are a few tips if you decide to have sex in the woods.

(1) Take insect repellent. Cate and I didn't and we are now covered in bites! Ouch!

(2) When you think you have found a suitable spot you might want to spend some time making sure you really are a good distance from the nearest path. Cate and I walked 100 yards from the main track and spent several hours fucking in the forest oblivious to the fact we had wandered to within 10 yards of another well trodden path. Fortunately no one came past, or at least no one that we noticed.

(3) Remember the route you took into the woods. We didn't. We got lost trying to find our way out.

(4) Take a camera. You never know what beautiful sights you will see. Aside from Cate, who looked stunning, I was particularly taken by the effect of sunlight shining first through the tree canopy above and then through her golden hair.

T

Mistress Does Ironing

2008-06-05T21:14:00.009+01:00

You will recall that in the previous post I mentioned that I retrieved some clothing from the laundry basket before making my escape from the marital home.

The following day I washed the very same clothes in S's washing machine.

She very kindly offered to iron my shirts for me. I was still exhausted from the emotional nightmare that my life had become and I gratefully accepted.

As she ironed she explained to me that she too had a full time job to go to and that I should not get used to her doing such chores. I was welcome to stay at her place but I was expected to pull my weight.

There was a twinkle in her eye but I sensed she was also making a serious point and I acknowledged it.

Then she began to laugh.

I looked up at her. It had been a terrible 48 hours and I didn't see what could possibly be funny.

She was holding up my beautifully ironed white shirt.

Then I saw it. The left arm was shorter than the right. The cuff had been snipped right off.

W had been more thorough in her scissor frenzy than I thought.

T

Hell Hath No Fury

2008-06-04T10:33:00.003+01:00

The events described in this post occurred some years ago immediately after the moment of my confession. I have not managed to describe this episode before because it is painful to me. In fact, even now it has taken me a couple of days to write because re-living these moments has been quite exhausting. Last night, having reconnected with the feelings of almost destroying my family, I separately gave W and each of the children a heartfelt hug.

I remember the next few words W and I spoke after I let out the secret that I had a mistress.

"What????!!!!!" screamed W.

"You heard me."

I remember she stood up, having been sitting at my side. She stormed to the other side of the room and turned back to face me.

"Do you love her?"

"Yes. I believe I do."

She was instantly overcome with rage. I recall that I was emotionless. I simply answered her questions in a matter of fact tone, I didn't withhold anything. I was so pissed off with the whole fucking world that I just didn't care.

My next memory is that we were in the kitchen and W was advancing towards me, brandishing a frying pan. I retreated to the front door and stepped outside.

"I think I'll leave now and we'll talk tomorrow", I said.

I went to the car and drove down the street. I parked up and turned off the engine. I looked at my mobile phone. Fate was poking fun at me because there was a text message from S, the first communication I had received from her in nearly two weeks. Having dumped me she was now asking if I had a final communication for her.

I called her.

"I've told her."

"Told her what?"

"Told her about us."

"Bloody hell! What did she say?"

"She attacked me with a frying pan."

S laughed nervously.

"Where are you now?"

"In the car."

"Where are you going to spend the night?"

"I don't know."

"Come here. It doesn't mean anything. I'm not going to hold you to anything but you shouldn't be alone."

I didn't know what else to do. You have to realise that on this particular evening I had completely disengaged my brain. I had embarked on a bizarre new policy which involved furnishing both W and S with the truth. I can only put it down to temporary madness brought on by the stress of it all.

I began driving to S's house.

After a further 20 minutes or so, W called me.

"I think you should come home."

"Er... I don't think I should. You seem to be very angry and I am not prepared to be attacked."

"I have told the kids that you are leaving us and they are very upset."

"Oh, for fuck's sake! Who says I am leaving anybody?"

"They are really upset. They are crying".

I turned around. On the way I called S and told her that I was not sure what would happen and I would have to get back to her.

W and I spent much of the night talking. It was almost as if she was re-living our marriage at the end just as she might re-live memories of her life just before death. We talked of how we had met, our life together, holidays, the kids. Her mood was swinging between extremes: one moment there was tenderness as she remembered better times and the next there was intense fury as she thought about the present.

At one point she lost control and dug her fingernails deep into my left arm, drawing blood.

We didn't sleep much but I remember getting a couple of hours on the couch. In the morning W told me that she wanted me out of the house. I was exhausted and I didn't want any more confrontation, especially in front of the kids, so I agreed to leave.

I began to get some things together. It was then that I discovered what W had done to my clothes. During the night she had taken a pair of scissors and been through my wardrobe, cutting almost every garment. I found some things from the washing basket that appeared undamaged and threw them in a suitcase.

W and the kids came into the lounge as I was preparing to leave.

She spoke to the kids, rather than to me.

"Daddy's got a girlfriend, another woman. He's leaving us to be with her. He doesn't want us any more."

I began to argue with this assertion. It certainly wasn't the situation as I saw it. I was far from clear that I wanted to leave W and I certainly didn't want to leave my children.

But W was not willing to hear what I had to say.

"Don't you dare lie to me and my children any more you bastard!" she screamed.

You have to realise that this exchange was taking place in front of young children, aged 5 and 6. I knew this was a terrible situation and that it could traumatise and confuse them. I didn't want to make it any worse than it already was.

I left the house with my suitcase.

W came to the front door as I left.

"Don't go to her house", she said, her tone momentarily controlled.

This was, of course, very good advice. However, at that particular moment I was too exhausted and too shaken to recognise good advice, and so I immediately disregarded it.

T

Philosophers Do It Deeper

2008-06-03T00:06:00.012+01:00

I like to think of myself as a good person.

Unfortunately, if one tries to live up to such an ideal, one inevitably has to either curtail one's desires or else become a mental contortionist in order to (morally) account for one's hedonistic pursuits.

Naturally, I go for the latter approach.

Plato once said that "necessity is the mother of invention" and I say that philosophy is as good a tool as any when it comes to the shameful art of self-justification, hence my growing interest in ethics.

If you type "Philosophy of Infidelity" into google I am pleased to report that you will see a number of references to this blog. However, near the top of the list, you will also see something else: a reference to a real philosopher's thoughts about an adultery scenario.

I have noticed quite a bit of this kind of thing recently. You may remember my friend Oli, a philosophy student who used my blog as reference material for his undergraduate course. I have also come across this site where real academics have been known to think very deeply about the quandaries posed by adulterous situations.

I recently pondered whether or not a single woman having an affair with a married man should be considered to be behaving wrongly. I argued that she did bear some responsibility although this was not to diminish his own, which I considered to be greater than hers.

Real philosophers have explored the very same question. The genuinely academic writer of another post argues that the single other woman does no wrong because the only reasonable cause for the adulterous man's wife to complain was his intention to commit adultery rather than the act itself. Only he can be held responsible for his intention.

At first I was disappointed with this line of thinking but then I read another discussion in which two other academics came down on my side of the fence.

Conclusion?

Well, when I was at school I spent a lot more time studying mathematics than philosophy, so I am going to put it like this:

If you put n philosophers in a room and ask them to rule on the ethics of a situation then you will get at least n+1 contradictory opinions and at least one of the opinions will justify my own disgraceful actions.

Good.

Now, where did I put my invitation to that sex party?

T

P.S. If my crimes have led me to become an amateur philosopher then I can't help wondering what terrible deeds the professionals are responsible for?