We had known each other for a long time and were good friends for a substantial part of that time. I was at the airport to receive her. Despite the effort to keep a cool and calm demeanour, the first glimpse of her dressed casually in blue jeans and a light blue top left me breathless. I never knew I was this attracted to her.
The exchanges were friendly, forcedly casual. Polite conversation followed as I loaded her luggage into the car. Closing the passenger door after her, I went around and got into the driver’s seat. My heart was pounding with anticipation. It was one thing to flirt and seem cool while texting. Now that the events were unfolding for real, I was getting nervous. There were a million questions flashing through my mind. Is this a mistake? Will she think less of me after this? Will I disappoint her? Because, under no circumstances did I want to lose her friendship. We looked at each other, the first time after the exchange of all those naughty messages, and after setting up this tryst. From somewhere deep inside me the question popped up, without me even realizing it.
“I so want to kiss you now!” Now I panicked! Am I crazy? Is she offended? But her soft reply put paid to my fears.
“What’s stopping you?”
She was looking at me, a hint of a smile on her lips. Sitting in the car, I leaned over and we kissed for the first time. At that instant I knew, this was going to be more than a casual fling. Two friends had transitioned into lovers.
The drive from the airport to the hotel was like a game. The casual banter to mask the sexual tension failed miserably, and yet it was playfully maintained. At the hotel, within seconds of locking our room door behind a hurriedly ushered out bellboy, we were kissing and undressing each other. It was like living out a dream. We had awesome sex, laughed, talked, wined, dined, danced and bonded like best friends. The physical chemistry was overwhelming; we fit together like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. Even more beautiful was the comfort and happiness we experienced in each other’s company. That was our first encounter, which lasted over an extended weekend.
Our relationship dynamics were simple. No strings attached. Just based on mutual respect, shared passions and the incredible physical attraction between us. But the ecosystem was complicated, for we were married, and not to each other. It was unconventional and beautiful in its naked form, yet sinful and adulterous when clothed in societal norms.
Let me be very clear: no ‘bad’ marriage or abuse or any such reason brought us together. We had both been married for a long time, had children and our marital lives were stable, the regular kind, with the usual ups and downs. Not unhappy.
Our coming together was more of a convergence of two compatible
personalities with similar outlook and great chemistry.
Seamlessly drifting from deep intellectual discussions to flirty verbal jousting and witty repartee. I have never laughed as much in anyone else's company. And magical sex... never have I experienced such a carnal mix of tenderness and lust ever!
Strangely, I felt no guilt. I still loved and cared for my spouse and I believe she felt the same about her husband too. But both of us knew only too well the chaos and mess this relationship could cause to our families and friends, if it came out in the open. Simply stated, our lives could only proceed on separate rails; distance was essential if life were to progress without accidents. And thus there was one sacrosanct rule. We could not and would not allow it to develop into a serious relationship.
Time passed, more trysts happened and while she kept her end of the bargain, I broke that one rule. I fell in love. I shouldn’t have, but I did and in doing that I violated the pact of our union. We tried to work around this, but it was easier said than done. Bringing emotions into this arrangement was a deal breaker. Sensing me falter emotionally, for both our good, she pulled the plug and broke all contact…and my heart.
Though reconciled to reason, I am still conflicted. How can something that feels so good and right also be perceived as bad and wrong? Is my moral fibre so corrupt? Is an individual’s happiness doomed to be the perpetual victim of morality? Are feelings of love and affection, which are acclaimed to be the purest and noblest of human values, to be rationed out for a select few? Will giving away to some reduce the availability to others? I know these questions have no real answers, only convenient interpretations.