Dating a married man memoirs from the other woman


As for the children, I told myself they’d never know.I tried not to think about them at all and, when I did, I convinced myself that as long as their dad was at home, as long as they never found out, there was no way they could get hurt.It was as though I’d finally met the best friend I’d never known existed.If it had been a first date, it would have been a resounding success.But as soon as we left for the day and got in the car, he reached for my hand and I did nothing to prevent him.

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Richard had just turned 30, but seemed from another, more grown-up world altogether.She also knew there was no point issuing warnings – I already knew the potential consequences. When we finally crossed that boundary, Richard had been working away.It was our one chance, it seemed, to spend a night together, so he came back early and stayed at my flat.As I opened the door, I turned back to look at him. I leaned towards him, still, even then, thinking, ‘Just a kiss on the cheek...’ Ten seconds later, we were having an affair. While it was happening I thought of nothing but the relief and thrill of finally being able to touch him after months of yearning.

But as we pulled away, I insisted, ‘This can’t ever happen again.’ ‘That kiss was a one-off,’ he agreed, but we both knew we were talking rubbish. I wondered whether he’d decided – quite rightly – against pursuing it.

It should have felt sleazy and wrong, but it didn’t.