What It Feels Like To Be A Lover.
In the world where open relationship becomes a common phenomenon and dating equals to sex nights, there is less space for what we used to call “love”.
But let me tell you one thing: whatever the modern society may treat as “unacceptable” in relationship matters, let’s look again at the very first sentence I wrote.
It started very simple: we met, not really at work, but it was job-related contract. We talked, laughed, shared. 12 years apart, and it seemed there was no gap in between.
§Until one day, I started to realise a horrible thing: I started to fall in love. There was one problem: he was married and he had kids. The more thoughts I had in mind, the lower my self-esteem became. I knew I was doing the wrong thing by accepting his invitations, but I never allowed myself to touch him or to give him wrong signals.
Everything would be fine, if my love was one-sided. I noticed the way he flirted with me, and I could see he wasn’t good at it.
First kiss was breathtaking, as if I have never done that before. I am not sure, if I was more worried or excited. That was the day when the world colours started to change.
Every single day I woke up with guilt, shame and sadness. I watched his wife’s social page to suffocate myself with jealousy and anger. Thousands times I asked for the break — up but it never happened. I saw his pain too.
But now imagine: you are the person who is satisfied with your job, the circle of friends, who has a certain goal to achieve, and now all you care is how to get rid of your own sins. When you are a lover, you always come second, and in my case, I probably come forth after kids and wife. When you are obliged to go anonymous everywhere, all you are capable of is to look at their wedding photos and realise your own misery.
My shrink did nothing, but it was the only time when I had a feeling of safety. I met my friends and every single time I was asked about my personal life, it made me frustrated and literally sick.
At some point I became paranoid. I felt my own actions were haunting me: the articles about cheating husbands, or people cursing “slutty girls going out with married men” were ubiquitous.
Nevertheless, after depression, ridiculous suicidal thoughts, and simply weak health, I realised one thing — you have stay honest with yourself, no matter what.
The only reason I decided to publish this is to tell people that things may not be just black and white. They are not even grey.