of questions

Because I’m attracted to you, he said.

As I tried to make sense of what he had just said, one of his hands found its way around my waist for the briefest moment and his face came really close to mine, and it felt like my skin was on fire. I withdrew, and then realized my skin wanted to be on fire.

And what did I do? Punched him in the face. Not because he was attracted to me – I already knew that – but because his saying it aloud meant I’d have to end it with him.

That, my friend, is the kind of chemistry I had to walk away from that night. It wasn’t easy, but I have never wanted a relationship with A – I am already in one with Mister. And btw, A knew too that nothing would come of our little game. It’s not like he has been pining for me – he goes home with a different girl every night anyway. I am just someone he can’t have and therefore, wants.

Are you familiar with the exhilaration that flirtation gives you; the gentle tug of anticipation and the endless possibilities? The joys of not knowing? The guilty pleasure that only comes from knowing that someone wants you desperately?

That night, when I went to A’s club to see what he was up to, I was looking for the same thrill. I needed to remember how it felt to be desired. A’s being “in love” with me is exciting and flattering, and I needed to feel the temptation again. I sought nothing else; I did not go there to cheat on Mister, and you know that.

Why, then did I need to be reminded of my marital status?

Does marriage turn people into asexual beings who don’t (or shouldn’t) care how people react to them? 

Do you not feel some sort of self-aggrandization when you indulge in harmless flirtation? Do you not feel this magnification of self-image when someone fawns over you?

What do you do when you learn that a good looking guy in your office/gym likes you? Do you not make an effort to dress better or behave better around them?

 

 

of malice

At first I decided not to write about this; to not tell you what happened tonight. But I’ve come to depend on this sharing. When I can’t figure out how I’m feeling, writing to you seems to be my only way out. So here goes.

Much against Mister’s advice, I went out dancing, alone. We fought about it – he was concerned about my safety and I was concerned about my mental health. I haven’t done anything other than work-sleep-work for the last two weeks and I’ve had it. My life is a fucking nightclub, and I’m starting to feel out of place. Again.

I’d have let it go, but today was one of those days when I just couldn’t bear being indoors anymore; I couldn’t bear being the. weaker sex. It felt like I was dissolving into the shadows little by little – becoming nothing in his absence. Like I didn’t exist as an individual. Who says good girls can’t go dancing alone?

So I went to that club to sit in that stool by the bar. And secretly, to see if A. was going to be there. I hadn’t met him since he told me he was in love with me. After what happened last time, would he even acknowledge my presence?

Maybe not. But somehow, I needed to know tonight – I needed to know that I owned his heart. It’s not like I wanted to act on it, but I have been attracted to him for a long time, and I needed to know he was still in love with me. Does that make sense?

To be honest, I wasn’t sure whether to go in, so I stood outside for a few minutes, trying to make up my mind.

Another couple that frequents the place dragged me inside, and A. was the first thing I saw.

But he was wrapped in a pair of arms – and those arms belonged to someone I know intimately. Someone who knows about my history with A and how I feel about him. They were swaying to a song. My song. And when I asked Giggles to meet me today, she told me she was busy with work.

How long has she been lying to me for?

of finality

You step out into the smoking zone. Your lungs are suddenly filled with smoke, and your heart with anticipation. You haven’t seen A since he made a pass at you and though you do want to know how he is doing, you don’t know how to deal with him. You’re very uncomfortable.

Ironically, the boyfriend is impressed by how quiet and lady-like you look tonight. He loves the dress and the high heels. Why don’t you dress like this more often?

Only if he knew what’s going on inside your head.

of restraint

Because I’m attracted to you.

You’re still glaring at him in disbelief when he leans forward, bringing his face closer to yours, almost touching it. You’re heady with desire and the smell of his cologne. You’re worried your head might explode.

You don’t know how to react, and feel like you should punch him

of dancing with strange men

Really? This is the third time this week. What’s gotten into you? The boyfriend is obviously puzzled about your sudden willingness to go out more often. Sure, you like dancing but going out three days a week isn’t really your scene. At least it wasn’t your scene until ten days ago. He says he will meet you there.

Now, you find yourself drawn to this place like iron filings to a magnet. A magnate, you should say, for it’s the person you’re interested in, not the place.

You’re always jittery as you enter a club alone. Will he be there? But this time, your heart is pounding. He’s there, sitting on one of the bar stools. Your bar stool.