He smells good and has nice teeth. He is successful and educated. He can talk his way out of anything and people respect him. He is well traveled, well read, and a foodie. He can virtually name any piece of music regardless of genre and he is very devoted to his children. He is tall and amazing in bed. He supports me in my time of need, lends an ear and admires my accomplishments.
Sounds like the perfect man, yes? Well he would be, if I could squeeze the two men into one.
I met Mr. A on a dating site. He was handsome and charismatic, very accomplished in the same field as I. His profile said he was looking for a committed relationship. We had many amazing nights of food and wine, weekends away to exotic places, but he was generally very busy during the workweek. Given the nature of our occupation, we both were. I was madly in love when I found out he was married. I thought I’d give him up and find someone “available”, but I loved the attention, the intelligence and the adoration.
With a married man comes limitations. Once the cat was out of the bag, I suppose life was easier for him. I knew he’d never call after a certain hour, and now that I knew, the false wall of being a single man came down. It actually made things easier for me too. After a year I was asked if I wanted to move somewhere closer to his work, and he and I “share” a place together. I was reluctant at first, but I had nothing to lose. What he really meant was he wanted to move his things, which includes me into one place.
As time went by, he stopped sleeping over. I know Mrs. A knows about me, and I know the reasons that they stay together. I am realistic. I have never loved a man the way I love him, and will likely never experience it again, but I know he will never be mine. I fill a need for him, and essentially, he does the same for me. I’d give him the best years and wait for him if I knew there was a prize at the end, but he promises me nothing.
I get sad waiting for him.
I get lonely when he never calls.
I get tired of sleeping by myself.
I get angry that I love him the way I do.
The way our schedules are and the way life would have it, I have successfully integrated another man in to complete my life. Mr. B has no idea. Mr. A does not ask where I go or what I do with my evenings. He can’t. After all, I’m pretty sure he shares a bed with his wife nightly although he denies it vehemently.
I met Mr. B through a friend. I didn’t think much of the situation, but did see him a few times. He was charming, and newly divorced. He had been treated poorly by his spouse and he was so soft, and open. He was unpretentious, although successful. Dates turned into overnights and overnights turned into weekends. Mr. B has shared custody of his son. We regularly do family things that provide balance and offset the irrational crazy relationship I maintain with Mr. A.
Its interesting, because I feel whole, but feel like I lead a double life. I think that I am winning the game, then I really wonder, who has the upper hand?
In the afternoon, I put out slippers and lounge clothing for my charming, witty, unobtainable, married man to slip into so we can lie next to one another in our pricy condo downtown, eat expensive chocolate and plan our next getaway. At night and on the weekends, I see my family man in suburbia who watches television with me and asks me about my day.
Mr. A makes me feel protected and sought after. Needed. At the same time, I know that I provide a safe haven for him, he can rest in my arms and I know he feels loved. He is passionate and dominant, he makes me want to be more.
Mr. B makes me feel thought about and loved. Cared about. I know I give him happiness, and while there is always an internal drive, he makes me feel as though I am enough.
I don’t even know how I got into this. I couldn’t even tell a soul.
I am alone, but I am not. Oh, how I wish the two were one.