Monday, 26 November 2012

Except

Except that wasn't quite the end of it.

The next couple of days, my mind wouldn't stop racing.

Did I want to do this?  Yes and no.  Should I just do it anyway?  No, but maybe.  Did he want to do this?  I don't know, but I think maybe.   Had he cheated on me in the past?  I suspect so.  Has he already cheated on his wife?  Maybe.  Do I care?  Yes.  Was I just justifying something I knew was wrong, and did I want to live with that?   Yes and no.   Was this fun and distracting?  Yes.  Mostly.

And there were texts that got more and more flirty, to the point where I would say "I'm heading to bed now, goodnight" and he'd say "Is that an invitation ;) "

Which, no.

But there was still that part of me that wanted to follow through, the idea of seeing what it would be like very enticing.

Somewhere around the second night of these "I can read into this if I want" texts from him, I got really uncomfortable.

As exciting as it all was, I didn't want to be the girl who helped my ex cheat on his wife.  I didn't like the idea that if he was my husband and I found out about these texts I'd be so mad and hurt, and who knows what else.

So the next night I told him I hadn't slept, that too much was going on in my mind and that we needed to clear the air.

He asked if I wanted to have a conversation, I said I did, and he headed over.

And here's where I have the benefit of knowing this man.  I knew if he came over, nothing would happen without me initiating it.  I felt safe with him being in my place, even though I'm sure my friends wouldn't have recommended we have the conversation there.

And we had a long conversation.

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