Time and sobriety are my cornerstones of perspective and as the edge of defensiveness (ego) softens, I see that crisis is precisely the word for describing the state of my marriage.
If I had the entire moment back I would say good night at the front desk and walk to my room without ever turning back to ask Mr. Meditteranean, "would you like to hang out and talk [or something]."
If I had that moment in his room back I would tell him that what brings me here tonight is the same thing that brought me to the affair six years earlier... that what I miss and have sought for more than a decade is intimate connection with another. That my husband has scoffed at the idea of "intimate connection" since I first mentioned it, that the idea of "making love" lies somewhere between boring and death. I'd cater to wild fantasies, porn and pole dancing 50% of the time if we could cultivate the type of intimacy I want during the other half. Instead, we're stuck in a tug-of-war (crisis) and no one is getting what they want.
If only I had been more sober as we walked back to his room that night. In that gen-infused haze I vaguely recall being asked whether I believe in soul mates. I jump to my standard (safe) response and lose the chance to ask him the same... something tells me he does believe and that perhaps his divorce has robbed him of his dream.
I stopped dreaming years ago when I traded romantic illusions for pragmatism. I gave up the dream and my belief system at the crossroads of 29 because I had grown too smart for matters of the heart. It's 12 years later and while my husband and I love, respect and care for each other, there is that one conversation we bravely hold once a year then quietly tuck back on the shelf. How many years of dust will gather on this book? Will we overcome it or separate ten years from now? Twenty? Thirty? If I wouldn't wait three decades to choose another path, then why would I wait another minute?
Why? Because I am afraid to be alone. That the mild, numb comfort of a platonic marriage outweighs the potential risk of lonliness. Because now children and a mortgage are involved. Because an affair can temporarily sedate the pain and rejuvenate that part of my soul again while leaving life's other comforts in place, right?
I describe Mr. Mediterranean to my best friend, how I want to feel the passion of his mouth on my own. A family therapist and former smoker she boils my feelings down with, "Yeah? Sometime I just want to smoke a cigarette too."
Hmm. It'd be harsh if it wasn't so comically true. What I know now -- that I didn't know six years ago -- is that an affair will leave enormous collateral damage. That while it may temporarily blow the dust off the shelf it will chip away at my soul.
Is it a coincidence that I chose the one man at my company who will not kiss or fool around with me? There are no coincidences. I have created drama once again to fill the void of constant craving but with a slightly different ending this time. The question is, when will I choose a different path entirely?
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