WARNING/Disclaimer: I’m going to be discussing something of an adult nature. I am whipping this out as it comes to mind and I have thoughts that are raw and uncensored – I may or may not use vulgarity. Oh, and it may have tons of grammatical and spelling errors too (Oh, the horror!?!?!). This post is intended for mature audiences (i.e. ages 21+). Also, names have been changed to protect the not-so-innocent.
Before I get into this topic, let me clarify that I am in no way defending my actions, nor am I claiming this behavior is acceptable in any fashion. I truly believe this type of behavior is painful for so many people.
When I began blogging, I wanted my blog to be therapeutic. I wanted it to be something that allowed me to share the worst parts of my life in an honest way – sort of a cleansing of my mind and soul. Of course, now that I am sober and having gone through the 12-Steps of Alcoholics Anonymous, I had dealt with a lot of my behavior and my part in the failings of my life. A few days ago, I began thinking that I was never really going to blog again, because there are aspects of my life I never really wanted to share – in spite of the fact that it was my intention to do just that with this blog. Having gone through my recovery program, however, I began to think that discretion might be the wiser choice. But after yesterday, maybe I have a disdain for relationships now. Or maybe, I’m just completely frustrated and I am still feeling like I am holding back so much of what I feel. Either way, maybe the idea behind truly accepting myself is putting everything on the table and allowing all of the broken pieces to fall before trying to pick them up. Of course, there is the aspect of dealing with the realities of my life…the good, the bad, the truly ugly. Cheating is certainly one of them. I have been cheated on, I have cheated and I have been cheated with – i.e. “the other man”. This post concerns a time when I was the other man.
I’ve mentioned before that I was a police officer in a small town. The small town was also fairly remote and the town I worked for required all of its employees to live within a five mile radius of the town – so, it essentially required I live within the town. The other problem with a small town is that there are a very limited number of housing possibilities and I ended up sharing a small rental with two other police officers. Unfortunately, I was the odd man out and slept on a couch for a few months before I was able to find another living arrangement. Well, that arrangement came from a woman that was looking for a roommate to help pay for bills. I’ll call her “Jen” (obviously, not her real name).
Well, Jen had knocked on the door of what we jokingly named “the barracks” since half the police department lived there and asked each of us if any of us were looking for a place to live. It was an easy decision, since two already had a bedroom and I had a couch. I said I would be interested. Well, she had expressed that she was in need of a roommate to help alleviate the burden of her monthly expenses. She said it would come with a separate bedroom and she thought it would be safe for her and her daughter if the roommate was a cop. So, I moved in with Jen and her daughter.
What Jen didn’t volunteer until after I had already moved in was that she was married. Her husband was in the military and he was never home. Honestly, after all of these years, I’m not even sure if she was actually married – I literally never met the guy. She asked me if I was okay with that and my response was something referencing her husband being okay with it. At this time, I really hand no inclination that anything would happen between Jen and I. At least, not at first.
It wasn’t too long after moving in that Jen would invite me to hang out with her and her friends, if I happened to be off on a Friday night or something. Being in my 20s, not in a relationship and having very little social life, I began going to bars with Jen and a couple of her friends. These bars were in a bigger town about an hour away. The social life was better than sitting home for sure. So, on those weekends, Jen’s daughter with spend time with her grandmother or with her dad (Not to sound judgmental, but Jen had a little bit of a reputation that I was unaware about).
It was not much longer after we began hanging out, that Jen would be in my bed with her knees pinned behind her ears and I was thrusting into her. I can’t even remember how we began doing it. I do remember a time when she and I had been having a long conversation and she indicated she was interested in me. Looking back on it, I do believe that it was probably natural for a connection to occur. We had been living together. I was participating in this domestic lifestyle much like a husband and father would. We would have dinners together, Jen’s daughter had naturally formed a bond with me because I treated them respectfully and tried to be a decent human being for her daughter’s sake. I’m certainly not tooting my own horn, but I believe I presented a better option as a man for Jen than a lot of the men in this small town. And, unfortunately, with a husband not physically present, there are physical and emotional needs not being met.
Again, looking back, I really had no intention of ever hooking up with Jen. But I can say, it seemed like she and I would fuck whenever an opportunity presented itself – usually on the weekends her daughter was with her ex-husband. I can remember coming back from work, and I would be greeted with blow jobs, or Jen would playfully be bent over a couch and smiling at me as I would walk in the door. To call her a nymphomaniac, might have been a huge understatement.
And, I believe, she had been telling her friends about us, because I noticed a change in their behavior towards me when we would hang out with them. When we would go out dancing, the friends began being a little less handsy with me, a little less interested in me, etc. In a way, I sort of felt like I had become Jen’s boy-toy. Mine and Jen’s relationship was weird – it was the essence of a Friends With Benefits arrangement, but it was like everyone around us was keeping a “respectful” distance – whatever that might be when someone is cheating. The relationship was so friendly, I even remember one time Jen giving me a blow job and during breaks from it she would tell me about one of her friends she thought would really like me. I thought it was the strangest thing in the world. She would take my penis out of her mouth and say, “Oh, I think you’d really like my friend…” and then pop my penis right back into her mouth. It was such a weird, strange dynamic. On the one hand, her friends were acting as if we were a committed couple and on the other hand Jen was suggesting people in this town that might be good partners for me. I could never really wrap my head around her head-giving recommendations.
But this had to end.
It had to end because I was beginning to feel guilty about my own actions with her. She was married after all – and I was participating in her infidelity. My sense of integrity was tarnished (as if there was much of that left at this point anyways), and I was beginning to see someone else. So, I felt it was time I told Jen, I needed to quit doing what I was doing. So, one evening, I sat her down and I began to tell her that I thought what we were doing was completely wrong. Before I began, she started to tell me her husband was going to be returning soon and that she and I should probably stop having sex. I remember blinking my eyes and saying, “Okay…” as she got down on her knees and unzipped my jeans to give me another blowjob.
It wasn’t long after that, that I had moved out of the house I was co-renting with Jen. I’m not sure of her husband had ever come back or not. In fact, I don’t even think I ever spoke to Jen again after that experience. I had heard about her moving away and that her and her husband has gotten a divorce. I did feel some sorrow for her daughter and I had truly hoped that I never had a negative impact on that kid.
Today, I find myself disgusted at my behavior and yet, glad that I could look at it and think that there are better ways to be. Often, I think about my behavior in relationships, my motivations, my desires and I find that I never really understood how to have a relationship based on something solid. So many things seemed pleasure-based for me – I think. Sometimes, I’m not really sure.