sex

'We said I love you and the sex got even better.' At 21, I had an affair with a married man.

The author of this post is known to Mamamia and has chosen to remain anonymous for privacy reasons. The image used is a stock photo.

I wish I didn’t have the experiences necessary to write this story. I wish I was confident, older, and wiser when I met him. I wish it wasn’t so easy to fall in love with his charming mannerisms and green eyes. I wish I had never slept with a married man and then fallen in love with him. But it happened because I let it happen.

I was the other woman.

I met him at a bar where he was sitting alone, and within a few minutes of speaking to him, he told me he was married. Right off the bat.

The Mamamia team discusses emotional v.s. physical cheating. Post continues below.

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I was disappointed, of course. He was so handsome and charming. He had these dimples that would make you melt. He spoke of his beautiful wife to make you think he was a good person – the kind of guy that talked openly (and often) of how gorgeous his wife was, and how happy he was with his life. He had such a manipulative way about him, you would never know just how good of a liar he was.

We flirted that first night we met, but we didn’t exchange information. He was married and I had no reason to give him my number. I didn’t do that kind of thing. But the next time I wanted to get a drink during happy hour, I chose to go to that bar and I chose it for one very bad reason: I secretly hoped I’d run into him.

And as if luck (and the devil) were on my side, there he was again. Laughing, being absolutely charming, and showing off his dimples.

I sat a few stools away and ordered a beer while he flirted with the bartender. Sure enough, he stood up a few minutes later and said hello (again with the dimples.) He showed off his ring and talked about his wife again. It was his sneaky way of pretending to be a good man, pretending to be faithful…as if frequenting this dive bar while he told his stay-at-home wife he was at the office was the kind of thing a faithful man did.

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He was the furthest thing from faithful. But the one thing he never did was hide his marriage. He held onto that, saying it often to me when I’d get mad at him as if the very disclosure of it was impressive.

“I never lied about being married.”

After that day at the bar, he asked for my number so we could be friends.

By giving him my number, I knew we were going to sleep together.

The first time we hung out, we went to the movies during the day. He told his wife he was at his office and told his assistant he was working from home. He was despicably talented at organising his alibis.

After the movies, he kissed me in my car for the first time and I nearly slapped him. I was angry he was touching me because he was a married man. Yet there I was, sitting in my car with him. I knew damn well what I was doing. He told me, “I never want to do something you’re not comfortable with.”

And then he put his hand on my thigh and I didn’t push him away.

We had sex in his car a few days later. After that, we started seeing each other regularly, almost every day. He’d come to my apartment before heading home from the office, and we’d have the best sex of my life. There was this energy that we couldn’t deny. We were so turned on by one another, and our sex was the most passionate I’d ever had – at the age of 21.

He was 32 and a handsome businessman, and I wanted more and more of him.

Until I wanted too much of him. Too much of someone who was absolutely off-limits and unavailable in every way possible. I started to feel something for him. I wanted him to be mine. I had fallen in love with a married man who was only able to spend time with me when he lied to his wife and kids about where he was that day.

I had fallen in love with someone who I had to lie to my friends about because every one of them was upset at me for being involved with him. But I had chosen to look past all of the disgusting details about him and the sadness inside of me, and I continued our affair.

The Mamamia Out Loud team discuss Bucks’ parties and whether they’re an excuse to cheat. Post continues below.

After a few months of our routine, I was sick to my stomach. Not about what a liar this man was, or how horrible of a person I was for getting involved with him – I was sick to my stomach about how much I loved someone that would never be mine.

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I was young, immature, and stubborn. I was oblivious to the harm this relationship was causing me. I was missing out on so many things in my life because I was head over heels for a man who had a life with someone else.

He started to tell me that it was possible to be in love with his wife and with me. He would say things that would make any sane person run, but not me. I was so blinded by the infatuation I had with him that I swooned at every morsel of hope he threw at me.

One day, I told him I loved him, and he said it back.

After we said I love you, the sex got even better. We started to say it on the phone to each other when we’d talk. And I really believed I was in love. No matter what the circumstances were, or the details of our messy situation, the feelings I had for him were very real. If I had to describe it now, I guess it was a young girl infatuated with an older man who filled some kind of insecurity and emptiness inside of her when it came to men.

But even though I was convinced it was love, I know it was anything but.

A few weeks later, he told me he regretted telling me he loved me. I cried so much that day. I was crushed and embarrassed. I felt stupid and childish, which I was. But I felt my heart shatter that day. Raw, real heartbreak that pulled me down, physically and emotionally.

After that day, I fought my feelings for him consciously. I tried hard to ignore him, but then I would end up texting him an hour later. He had such an ego on him that he didn’t like that I had started to play games with him. He was used to me being always available for him.

I continued seeing him because I couldn’t deny the fact that I still loved him, but I was starting to finally realise how ugly this was going to end for me. He would be fine; he would continue with his family life, but I would be left alone.

I continued having sex with him, because it was – up until that point – the most passionate sex I’d ever known. But I started seeing other guys at the same time without telling him. I was no longer starry-eyed for the man.

We stopped meeting up for lunch dates or happy hours. All we did was have sex. I didn’t want to see him in public anymore; I was embarrassed I was still seeing him at all. I had become bitter and hateful towards him, even during sex. I’d constantly throw his marriage in his face. I’d make comments about how good men don’t lie to the mother of their children. Good men don’t cheat on their wives. And he’d say I was hurting his feelings and I’d say “Good.” And then we’d have sex.

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Once I started playing these games with him, he suspected I might be dating other people. I had never been anything but affectionate towards him and these rude comments I let slip were not like me.

He began to ask if I was seeing anyone else. I always said no, and he always replied, “I hope not. Because you’re mine. Only mine.”

Yes – the married man told his mistress not to see anyone else because she was only his.

When he finally started to mess around on me too, I grew tired of it all. He’d ignore my calls, and then show up at my house. I grew tired of him and of the lies. I grew tired of the embarrassment. I grew tired of looking at myself, knowing a year had passed and I was still involved with him.

So I broke things off. Admittedly, it took more than one attempt to walk away from this unhealthy relationship. Anyone who has been in a toxic relationship knows how hard it is to leave. But after several tries, with pain and tears, I finally blocked his number and never spoke to him again.

It’s been many years now, and I still look back at these memories with sorrow and embarrassment. I know we all think mistresses are despicable people, but it does take two people to have an affair. I’m not in any way excusing the women who involve themselves with married men because it’s a sad thing to do. I was one of them. I know I was only 21-years-old, but that’s not an excuse either. My best friends were all my age or even younger, and they all knew what I was doing was wrong.

Now, I’m proud to share my story (even though it’s anonymous) because I hope I can stop someone else from making the same mistake too.

What I had with this man was not real, even though I believed it to be. I thought we were destined to find each other, and that he and his wife would eventually separate, and he would choose me. That was never going to happen.

What I felt for him was anything but love. I have known real love since – it’s beautiful and fulfilling. What this married man and I had was something full of lust and emptiness and sadness.

Love does not lie and torment. Love does not take advantage of you, cheat and hide. But being with a married man will involve all of the above. For anyone that finds themselves attracted to someone who is in a relationship, take it from me…don’t put yourself through the heartbreak and torture. It’s not worth it.

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