The Heroine's Adventure

This post is a continuation of my story, the last related post being, My Decent.  My story is a cautionary tale in some sense.  I came through it a better person, thankfully, and that is why I have chosen to tell it.  I will be judged and that is OK.  I will be embarrassed and ashamed, but that is OK too.  I have to believe there is a greater good in sharing my experience.  My feelings at the time of my affair are difficult to express without romanticizing it to some extent and I struggle with that.  It makes me feel like I am justifying it and I am not.  There is a strange dichotomy going on.  I have no regrets because it made me who I am, but I certainly would do things differently knowing what I know now.

I have been putting off this part of the story for the above mentioned reasons, distracting myself with other “easier” topics. I was so insanely in love.  Now, I feel nothing.  That knowing makes me distrustful of my very own feelings.  Perhaps that is further proof to me that living in the moment is really all that matters.  Enough stalling, time to tell…

After James and I met online, our relationship progressed at a frenetic pace.  I found myself thinking of him every waking moment.  I even began to act differently, as if he was watching my every move.  My body felt more alive than I can ever remember.  Every sense became heightened.  Every move was thoughtful, as if in slow motion.  I felt I was vibrating on some higher frequency.  We came to use each others words and anything that made us feel connected.  We had seen only one picture of the other and it was enough to want to know more.

I can not recall how long it was before we decided to meet in person.  Or more like, he decided.  He was always pushing me for more and I let him.  The first time we met, I was a mess.  I do not ever remember being so nervous and panicked.  I wanted to run.  Talking about something and actually doing, are two very different things.  I suddenly felt nothing for this person that I had grown so attached to.  I could tell he was attracted to me, but the feeling was not mutual in the beginning.  I was uncomfortable and turned off in a way.  Sadly, I think what kept me from running through the airport and back to my car, was that I felt obligated.  I felt I owed him for coming so far to see me.

The first time we had sex was awful.  Really awful, actually.  We knew so much about each other mentally, but we knew nothing of each other physically.  I do not know what kept me around after that.  I had fallen in love with him in a way.  Our differences were exciting and we fed off them.  It was an escape.  I had lost myself somewhere and he picked me up and carried me off.  I stayed the course.  We learned, we adapted.  We came to be perfect lovers.  Each pushing the other.  Each learning from the other.  We became addicts eventually.  We had designed a complex life within a life, where we needed one another.

We did not see each other often due to distance, but we spoke on the phone for hours almost every day.  When one is forced to talk so much in a relationship, no topic is left unexplored.  I learned so much about myself and him.  We grew to deeply care for one another over the years.  I believe the reason our relationship lasted so long was because neither of us wanted to leave our families.  Our feelings were mutual on that subject, so there was never one person who was unhappy (enough) with the situation.

Our bond was intense.  I wanted to be buried with this person.  It pained me that we would not be.  I wiped this person’s runny nose with my finger, without thought.  I walked naked on a beach with this person…ME, the girl my mother always called a prude.  I gave this person every inch of me, willingly, openly, freely.  He gave me confidence.  He made me feel intelligent and beautiful.  He made me believe I could do anything.  No one in my entire life had ever praised me like he did.  It was something I deeply lacked during my childhood and I ate it up like ice cream on a stick.

I remember somewhere during this time watching the movie, Unfaithful.  That was me.  I only hoped it wouldn’t have the same ending.  Those movies ALWAYS have the same ending.  Why did I think mine would be so different? There is a scene in the movie where a friend is discouraging the thought of an affair to another because of her own experience.  She says remorsefully, “……someone finds out or someone falls in love and it ends disastrously.   They always end disastrously.”  It haunted me.  I am sure I knew deep down it was not going to end well, but I could not stop.  I was on a runaway train.  I felt if I jumped, I would surely die.

Up next:  Fear Becomes Me, Part One.