“Monogamy used to be one person for life. Today, monogamy is one person at a time.”
Esther Perel
(Fiction)
We live in a world where love comes with no guarantees. You could be on a very great streak of dates, thinking you’re already at the start of a great relationship. Then you get ghosted. You might feel like you’re one half of the happiest couple in the world. Then two days later you’re hiring a lawyer to help you divide things up. Who knows? Perhaps you never saw yourself as someone who would resort to cheating. You figured that in this day and age you could be honest enough to tell your partner what’s going on. You told yourself you would never lie or sneak around. Yet now you’re sending texts to someone named David who’s saved on your phone as Lilian. How did this happen?
It started with being bored, but not in the way everyone is going to assume. You weren’t bored of your partner. In fact, you loved them. You were tired of the person you’d become. You used to live for excitement and adventure. You’d dance all night and still wake up in time to be at the office at 9:00 sharp. You’d constantly be thinking of ways to push yourself. Then, somewhere along the way you stopped. Now it’s all boring dinner dates with friends you have nothing in common with. You wondered if this person was the one you had become. You threw a coin in a fountain and asked for a chance to go back. To be bold once again.
Then one day, it happened. You were on your commute and then a crazy thought came into your mind. You got off three stops early and you walked down a street you hadn’t been to in years. You didn’t have a plan in mind. All you wanted was to break with the routine.
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You saw a bar you’d heard of but had never been to. It was Happy Hour so you figured you’d have one drink, two at the most, and then go home. You sat at the bar and were about to ask for the house Rosé, but instead you ordered a Whiskey Sour. As they placed the drink next to your hand, you felt a surge of energy. You weren’t doing anything illegal, and yet you felt like you did when you were seventeen and sneaking out of your house on a Tuesday at midnight.
You took a sip, delicious. You smile to yourself. Maybe this was the little vacation you needed. That’s it. You’ll finish your glass and be on your way. A thought crosses your mind. You probably should let your partner know. They might worry. You take your phone out. Then you think that if this is a mini break, one you might want to come back to another time, you want this to be your own. So you text them.
But this is when you choose to lie. You tell them you had to stay a little late at the office. Or that you’re looking for a present for your sister’s birthday. That’s a good one. Even if you walk through the door empty handed you can say that there was nothing you liked for her. As you hit send, you feel the cold air from outside as someone opens the door. You don’t turn around. Instead you ask for a second drink. There’s only ten minutes left on Happy Hour, anyway.
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Someone stands next to you and orders a drink. You sneak a quick look. They remind you of someone, but you’re not sure who. They catch you looking, but before you can blush, they smile and say Hi. You start talking. You don’t even hear the text from home that’s telling you to stay out of the cold. All the time you’re thinking you’ll say goodbye and leave in five minutes. But suddenly it’s late. Really late. You tell them you have to go now. They ask you for your number. You are about to say no. But how long has it been since you’ve felt like this? Like you’re an undiscovered pearl at the bottom of sea. They look at you like you’re a secret waiting to be discovered.
So you do give them your number. But you can’t give them your real name. You’re trying to lie but your head is spinning and not from the alcohol. You blurt out the name of a Disney princess you dressed up as when you were eight. They probably gave you a fake name too.
The next couple days and weeks are a blur. It’s like you’re thirteen again and waiting for the boy from across the hall to leave you a note in your locker. You feel as if you’re walking on a cloud all the time. Your partner doesn’t even seem to notice. You get a text from the one from the bar. You meet at a bar in another part of town. One that is farther from your place and your partner’s radius.
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You flirt for a bit, amidst the cigarette smoke, the smell of spilt booze, and Frank Sinatra covers. Then they lean in and kiss you. It’s so ridiculously adolescent yet you can help but get pulled in. You go to their place. You barely notice anything. You don’t want to know if there’s someone else. It’s not like you forgot about the person waiting at home for you. You just can’t help but jump into this hurricane of desire and euphoria.
It doesn’t last long.
At some point you stop texting them. The rush is gone. You ignore them until they stop calling. You go back to your routine carrying your secret like a little treasure. Things are even better with your partner than before. You never told them, but you have a suspicion that they knew. Some days you feel the secret wedged between the two of you in bed. At other times it’s just the thing that’s draped on the bathroom door with your bathrobe.
Nothing is guaranteed in life. Love certainly isn’t. Neither is fidelity.
(End of Fiction)
Is a journal your best post-breakup companion?
Is it time to burn your bridges?
Sources:
Esther Perel Ted Talk
