It was one of those nights that seem like a fluke.
Almost like I imagined it even. Ah wells.
I had been ready for a change that night.
Wanting to let go and start a new situation.
Figures I would end up with a guy who couldn't give me that.
I guess I'm meant to be where I am.
There's something you should know about me...
...I'm technically a mistress.
Though I shouldn't say a mistress really.
He doesn't give me money or gifts or make me comfortable or spend the night. We're yet to have sex in an actual bed even.
We meet. We talk. We fuck. We leave.
He's seventeen years older than I am. Married with three kids.
He's everything I want in a man. Older, accomplished, smart, funny. He takes charge. He's man's man kinda man. He would be so perfect. If he wasn't so flawed.
I tell him all the time that he has ruined men for me.
It's funny, there I am. Writhing with passion underneath a man that I know I shouldn't even be speaking to alone much less sleeping with. There I am. Possibly destroying a woman's family and three little kids lives and not caring.
I know I'm wrong. Dead wrong. But I can't help it. I love him. Just a little bit. But I do.
Almost as much as I love him, I hate him.
I hate him because the moment he kissed me, he shattered my dream world.
I never meant to become his mistress. I envied his marriage.
He seemed like such a perfect man. Lovey- dovey with his wife, played with his kids.
I would watch them, envious, wondering when I would have a perfect family like theirs.
I started talking to him. Not to seduce him.
Just wanted to be able to say I know someone who's good and kind and decent. Perhaps give me a little more hope in men.
He shattered that hope, reminded me that men at the end of the day are just men.
No matter how different they look, down at the core, they are all the same.
But I had already fallen in love with the perfect man, and I guess I wanted a part of him.