I've been called home-wrecker, whore, tasteless...but I don't care. I don't regret it. Let me say that again, I don't regret it. I learned a lot from that man, and the experience. He brought me out of myself. I was terrified (shy doesn't quite cover it) before him. We spent nearly every night at his house, while his wife was at work.
He never made promises and I never expected anything from him. I loved him. Stupidly, yes, but I did fall completely in love with that man. He loved me, but he never told me he'd leave her for me. I knew better anyway. They never leave their spouse. I've seen enough lifetime movies to know better.
His wife eventually found an email he had written to me. Our love came to a very abrupt end.
My boyfriend knew about it, long before I confessed. It took weeks of crying to convince him to stay. It's been four years, but the respect he had for me hasn't healed. Not completely. I don't blame him, though. It was my actions that caused his heart ache. I wouldn't trust me anymore, either.
I tell you that story, to tell you this one:
Since about a year after the affair, I've been jokingly telling everyone that I am going to write a "How to Cheat and Not Get Caught," handbook. We'd all share a good laugh, and joke about the things to be included. I never thought I'd get ever get published, so I thought, "What's the point?"
I'm going to do it. I'm going to write my handbook as a series of blogs. You can call me tasteless, you can complain, you can tell me it's immoral. I don't care. I figure, if it's going to happen, anyway, the less pain you cause, the better.
"What they don't know won't hurt them."
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