One Life One Encounter

We had been married for 3 years, together for nearly 5, when I had my first affair.

I wasn’t seeking it out. It wasn’t something I planned. It just… unfolded.

It was purely physical. But it certainly wasn’t fulfilling in the way you see affairs portrayed.

Whatever I thought I might find in it—connection, excitement, something more—it never quite landed.

It gave me moments.
But nothing that stayed.

Sure—there was sneaking around. He was also involved with someone at the time, and that added a certain kind of energy. There was something between us when we were in the same room. A charge.

But it was short-lived.

Mike knew. Or at least, he sensed something. But I denied it. Said we were just flirty. And eventually, things ended as our social circles moved apart.

I kept thinking—one day I will feel guilty about this. The guilt never showed up – at lest not in the way I thought it should.

I also remember thinking: this had nothing to do with Mike. It had to do with me.

I realized that then.

And that realization itself didn’t scare me.

If anything, it felt… exciting.

As if I could actually be the one in control.

And I think that mattered more to me than I realized at the time.

As long as I controlled the narrative, I didn’t have to fully face myself.

I didn’t have to make a decision.
Didn’t have to disrupt my life.
Didn’t have to admit that something inside me was already shifting.

Control let me exist in the in-between.

Not fully honest.
Not fully gone.
Not fully present either.

I found myself fantasizing about what my life could look like without being tethered to someone else.

Sure, I was romanticizing parts of it.

But when I allowed myself to go there, even briefly—

I felt… free.

---

And those feelings didn’t stop there.

If anything, they opened something.

The second affair was different.

There was more awareness this time. More intention, even if I wouldn’t have called it that then.

I got involved with a married couple.

At the time, I told myself I wanted to explore.
My sexuality. My curiosity. What I wanted.

And that was true.

But it wasn’t the whole truth.

Looking back, I can see how familiar it actually was.

They saw me as someone who had it together.
Independent. Capable. Successful in my own way.

And I stepped into that easily.

Not just as a participant—
but as someone who could offer something.

I became useful.

A kind of bridge in their relationship.
Someone who could hold space for what they were trying to explore.

And I didn’t question that role.

It felt normal.

Because it was.

I wasn’t asking what I needed.
I was focused on what I could give.

It was the same way the first affair started too.
Me doing something.
Giving my time. My energy. My attention.

Helping. Supporting. Showing up.

And even in something that looked like freedom,
like I was stepping outside of the life I had built—

I was doing the same thing.

Still trying to earn my way into it.

Still trying to justify my presence.

And I think that’s part of why it never felt the way I thought it would.

Because I wasn’t there to be met.

I was there to provide.

I knew how to be valuable.
I didn’t know how to simply be seen.

Looking back, I can see what that created.

---

Neutrality felt like indifference.

Like I didn’t have anything to lose that wasn’t worth losing.
Or maybe more honestly—nothing that didn’t already feel lost.

It didn’t feel like something I needed to stop.
Or even question.

It just… existed.

And I was also very good at making sure it stayed that way.

I was very good at lying.

I said just enough truth to validate him, and just enough lie to keep me intertwined.

Not in a reckless way.
Not in a way that felt chaotic.

In a way that was controlled.
Measured.

I knew what to say when something felt off.
I knew how to give just enough truth to make it believable—
and just enough distance to keep everything intact.

Looking back, it wasn’t just about hiding what I was doing.

It was about maintaining something I didn’t know how to leave.

I knew at the time that even though my husband was involved, this was my own internal conflict.

And I can see now that I wasn’t ready—or willing—to really face what that meant.

If I’m honest, a small part of me was hoping that when Mike found out just enough, he would make the decision for me.

That he would force something to shift.

But that moment didn’t come.

Not then.
Not for several more years.

And in the meantime… i stayed

We stayed

We kept going

-A