As time went on we became more and more inseparable. It felt so natural that I for one didn’t even notice as it was happening. H was a part of my daily life now, as we began meeting for drinks regularly at a local bar, even when neither of us had class. I would receive “good morning” and “good night” text every single day, and hardly a day went by were we weren’t making out in some parking lot in one of our cars. I felt relaxed with him. Free. Secure even. Like nothing else in the world mattered and I could finally breath from my hectic life. He calmed me simply by being around, no matter how anxious, depressed, angry, or overwhelmed I was. We just clicked. He was sweet, kind, gentle, listened to me, and still had enough edge and patients to deal with my spicy attitude, pointing at me with an adorable smile on his face saying “lock it up” in a joking manner when I would start to get a little out of hand. He was, and still is, witty, sarcastic in the best of ways, the most intelligent man I know, and has a genuine heart of gold. We had common childhood traumas and related on a deeper level than I ever had with anyone else, even now. He is worldly, sophisticated, adventurous, and good at literally everything. I still have not found something that he is bad at, other than maybe speaking his mind in fear of being rejected or hurting someones feelings. He’s not great at confrontation, unless he’s really pushed to his limit. Something that I don’t shy away from; confrontation, not pushing him to his limit, at least not until recently. I felt like I saw this man for who he really was at his core, and I was falling hard for the person I was discovering. In turn I felt seen for who I really. H could be in a suit and tie for a chefs tasting at one of the most extravagant restaurants in the country one day and in jeans and a tee at a dive bar the next. He was multi faceted in ways I could have only dreamed of in a partner. He can honestly and successfully accomplish anything he puts his mind too, something I truly envy.
Early morning in fall 2011, while I was at school, I called H for some class related assignments. He sounded down, distracted, and not himself. After chatting for a few moments he revealed that he had just received news of his grandfathers passing. He didn’t want to burden his grieving parents with his sorrow, and he claimed his wife had little response. Having lost my grandfather only a year prior, I sympathized with his mourning and felt the immediate need to be there for him. I left school and met him at a convenience store in his neighborhood. He needed a drink, and a friend. As its illegal to drink in public, we ended up at his house. I had never been to his home before and was nervous, thinking that I was way overstepping and something could potentially happen between us. But nothing did. Not even a kiss. We sat in his yard for what felt like hours as he reminisced about his beloved grandfather. I gladly listened in silence, observing yet another facet to this man that I had begun seeing in a whole new light, though I wouldn’t admit my feelings for several more months. H told me story after story of what I can only describe as being a truly remarkable man, his grandfather. It was the most pure moment, I think, in our whole relationship. Something I hope to remember forever. Innocent, open, honest, vulnerable. We bonded that day. H says that was the day he started falling in love with me.
We had become two people who were just there for each other, supported each other, and wanted the best in life for one another with out any catch, obligation, or anything else in return. Never having had someone like that before, I coulndn’t have asked for more. Joined at the hip, people started to assume we were a couple long before it was ever official. We had become “popular”, if you will, amongst our peers. Classmates and friends loved our banter, witty humor, and overall energy. My friends, knowing the situation at hand, were very encouraging of us taking things further for they knew I had never been so happy. I was a different person around him. Someone I loved, someone I respected and appreciated. Someone I felt like I always wanted to be but had not yet been set free. Not until I met him. Feeling like I had risen from the ashes of my past life, I was finally the me I had envisioned. I was uncompromisingly and unapologetically myself, and slowly realized that I would do anything to keep this person I had become.
The first time we had sex felt like weeks later, though remembering back it may have just been a few days. One beautiful sunny Southern Californian day, in between classes, we were heading to lunch, as usual, when H said he had to run home real quick for something. He lived close to campus, so it was no inconvenience at all. He pulled into his garage and I began to feel my stomach turn with butterflies of nervous excitement. He asked if I wanted to go in, but my gut instincts told me that if I did something would definitely happen. He himself was acting a bit nervous which did not ease my racing heart. I declined and said I would just wait in the car. He went inside for all of two minutes, got back in the car, leaned over grabbing the back of my head, and slowly started kissing me with such passion that I felt my whole body quiver. Short, sweet, passionate, and exciting- we had sex in the passenger seat of his car right there in his garage. Not exactly how I would have pictured the first time to be, and yet I would never want to change a single moment of that experience. It was a huge deal for me, sleeping with a man I wasn’t dating. Out of character again. My number was 3, a real 3, not the take it and multiply by 3 to get the actual number sort of thing as they say, but a solid honest to God 3. H made 4. Dizzy with ecstasy, and drowning in sensuality, there was still the fact that I was engaged, and he was married. In that moment however, as he held me close in his muscular arms while I ran my hand down his impeccable six pack, I couldn’t see anything but him and who I believed him to truly be, inside and out. My other half, my lost soulmate, the partner I had been longing for. Not just from our current physical experience, but our developed mental and emotional ones as well.
As mentioned in a previous post, him and his wife were having serious relationship issues, just like me and my fiancé. Potentially something said by one who just wants to bed a new catch, but overhearing conversations by them, I believed every word. According to memory, he knew long before vows were taken that she wasn’t the one, but as he has always been a pleaser and in need of others approval, he wed her for it was the natural next step and the “expected” thing to do, as he says. As a self proclaimed introvert, and a little geeky, he states that he was unable to keep a relationship with a woman, and as she (his now wife) stuck around, he felt pressure by both their parents and friends, and was not one to disappoint. She was successful, pretty, well put together, came from a good family and “nice”, the only word he ever used to describe her. By the time we met, they were married a few years and literally had a white picket fence around their gorgeous 4 bed, 3 1/2 bath home in a highly sought after neighborhood, with a golden retriever. A seemingly perfect life to anyone looking from the outside in. Working in LA, she seemed to never be around though. I knew this for a fact based off of how much time him and I spent together. Claiming she was too tired or too drunk to make the 60 mile drive home, his wife became ever more absent as time went on. Saying that she was spending these absent nights “in LA” , H had started tracking her phone, finding that she was actually staying in a neighborhood of a near by city. Something that had been going on for a while apparently. The few times that they would go out, he would call me after some big fight they had and he was either walking home pissed and frustrated, or going for a drive to get away and needed to meet for a drink in order to vent. As my home life was falling apart more and more with each passing day, I was all too happy to oblige.
H was always there for me as well. On a cold evening in winter I had gotten in a huge fight with my fiancé, who had been disappearing till 6am most nights. I was overwhelmed with needing to study for a test and he refused to return home to watch our daughter, so I had no choice but to take her to school with me. I showed up at the library crying, with my daughter in hand. H was there studying with a classmate, another woman who was hostile with me and claimed to be dating him at the time and whom he visited years later in NYC, which I will get to later. He saw me walk in and immediately came over to check on me. This obviously upset the woman who stood there staring at me with such an evil eye that for a second I was sure she was about to tell me off again. I was a mess though, hardly able to speak. Children are innocent and it’s my job as a parent to protect my daughter, ensuring her happiness. That night she was only 5 years old, watching her mother falling apart, tired because it was so late at night, and not understanding anything going on. She didn’t need to see me crumbling under lifes’ dramas and she was too young for me to explain why I had to drag her out of bed and to school that evening. H took my daughter to the kids section of the library, giving me a second to compose myself and let me settle in. They returned shortly after and he was sweet with her before leaving with the woman. It was the kindest gesture anyone could have done for me and something I will always be grateful for.
It wasn’t just the physical intimacy that drew me to H. Yes, it was amazing, he was tall, handsome, in great shape, and obviously accomplished; but the things that caught my attention were the little gestures. Especially when I was at my lowest breaking points. Little things I desperately needed but that I wouldn’t have even known to ask for. A kind word, a coffee, a reassuring smile, or an ear to vent to all when I needed it the most. It was like he could read my mind. Life was rough, money was tight, and I felt so alone in the world. There were days I didn’t eat because I literally could not afford to buy any food other than that for my daughter. H never hesitated to pay for breakfast, lunch, or even dinner on some occasions with out even being aware of my financial strain. He never questioned my situation, never put me down or made me feel less than, and never waited for me to ask for assistance. He always just took action and took care of me. He was always available and had my back. Don’t get me wrong, I had some incredible friends. Both men and women. But life’s a bitch, right? Everyone had a million things going on and many of my friends were either single parents themselves or in the middle of big life changes. I couldn’t burden anyone with my issues. H never seemed burdened though. He seemed like he wanted to help. He stepped up when no one else could, would, or even knew that I needed them to. Including my own family. H never doubted that I could accomplish anything, always had kind and supportive words encouraging me like no one before, making me feel strong, limitless, and grounded. He was my saving grace. My guardian angel.
When people refer to someone as being a grounded person they are referring to someones physical and mental state of being confident and sure of oneself. Being grounded means you have a strong connection with who you are, which brings you physical and emotional balance.
-scarlessnose.com
Women were still a problem however. I wasn’t trying to keep him to myself necessarily but felt like other woman were. I was constantly being attacked in passive aggressive and undermining ways as a result. Some even making threats to my face. The local bar we frequented had a manager that would constantly hit on H and snub me, which was aggravating. One night she showed up at a dive bar on the other side of town that we had ended up at with one of H’s friends who was having a bad night due to a tax bill. I found them all playing poker with a few other regulars, and was heated that this woman, who was undeniably interested in H, was now unexpectedly sitting next him. I had the sneaking suspicion that he had invited her. However, the audacity of this woman who saw us hugging and kissing every day and always pretended like she didn’t know my name, but sure as hell remembered his, as well as his usual order, was mind blowing. I knew that she had many suiters, some who paid her rent, one bought her a car even, so what did she want with H? But I wasn’t sleeping with her, I was sleeping with him, so what was he doing to lead her on to where she felt I was nothing despite witnessing our public displays of affection? As a Latina, I am not one to hide my feelings, and that night was no exception. I walked up asking “what the hell is she doing here?” loud enough for all to hear. H said they simply ran into each other which I didn’t buy. She quickly whispered something to him, got up and left with out even looking at me. Later H’s friend got so drunk that he could hardly stand and I ended up caring for him the rest of the night as H stayed at the poker table. By the end of the evening H seemed surprised by my actions of prioritizing his friends well being and he somehow seemed more dedicated to me than ever before, swearing nothing was going on with the female bar manager. All I know is that after that night the bar manager not only knew my name, but my usual order too. She apologized for her actions and any misunderstanding, saying that she would back off. It was much appreciated. I can’t even say why I was so angry with her. The bar manager is the only one I was ever confrontational with, all others I was kind too. I saw no need to argue. I think I have counted over 50 women through the years who have either claimed to have been with H or behaved in a manner that suggested something was going on. A woman he met at a local brewery, who he swears was into his friend but in fact was trying to go home with H, which became obvious when I showed up and she got upset as H paid attention to me and started buying me drinks. The guys offered for her to join us as we headed to another place, but she declined with a scowl as H got into my car over hers . A woman at an ice cream shop in his neighborhood who would gladly tell me she “knew him well” the few times I went in there, but never elaborated. Countless woman from school. And recently a handful from our new home town. Most of these women who claimed to have been with H ended up apologizing to me actually, like the manager. Privately approaching with sincere remorse and showing me the upmost respect, eventually gaining me many new friends. I never fought over H, claimed him as mine, spoke ill of any woman who made false accusations or spoke ill of me; its not who I am because what’s the point. I didn’t want the drama, wasn’t going to fight for someone to be with me, and quite frankly it wasn’t my place. He wasn’t technically mine to fight for.
Sex was becoming a regular occurrence with us by winter, and into spring it was only getting better. Actually it was amazing! Rusty at first, not going to lie, with a little practice we were so in tune with each other that I can honestly say, in my limited partner experience, it is unbeatable. As neither of us had touched our home partners in months, we found comfort and need relief in each other. It was fun, exciting, intimate, and passionate beyond belief. H started hanging all over me more in public and I was loving the attention. He also started to get jealous however. Not in a controlling or mean way, but a “woah is me” sort of a reaction is what I received every time I spoke to him after a night out with friends or classmates. I couldn’t seem to go anywhere or do anything with anyone without him inquiring if something happened, if I met someone, if I did something…interrogations went on and on. On a fun night out with a couple of his friends, after him and I had sex in the parking lot outside the bar we were heading to, we all started to compare sexual experiences. H became upset, shut down, and wouldn’t talk to me. He became upset of things I had done with ex’s but not him and I didn’t understand. Another evening after a fellow classmates birthday dinner that H was invited too but didn’t join, a guy from the event gave me a ride home as I was too drunk to drive and he lived the closest to me. A friend that absolutely nothing had ever happened with. H was upset when I told him and he questioned me for weeks after. Yes, H and I were having a full blown affair at this point, but I was so faithful to him. He was slowly becoming my world and I wasn’t the one with the flirtatious reputation or who people were claiming to have slept with; so the accusations began throwing me off.
The affair continued into late spring 2012 before my fiancé found out. I had moved out of his parents house, where we had been living, and back in with my own parents the year prior. He followed without invitation and I had kicked him out after he got a $300 tattoo without telling me while we had piles of bills that I was struggling to afford, let alone food and other needs. He refused to leave and ended up stealing my phone, finding messages between H and I. My fiancé lost his mind. He probably left H at least 10 unconscionably threatening voicemails, and I have no clue how many text messages, in the middle of the night. H awoke to a very hostile situation and called to make sure I was ok. He was so calm, almost unfazed by the events that had just occurred. H was supportive and didn’t want to end our relationship on account of my ex’s rants. Things progressed quickly though in a violent way after that between my ex and I. He pinned me down on the bed one night, screaming in my face, calling me all kinds of terrible names, in front of our daughter who still, 9 years later, remembers every moment of it. He stalked me and H. Constantly harassed us in every possible way. Tried even to get us each fired and kicked out of school. I had to call the cops on him a handful of times, get a restraining order, and put in our custody agreement that we would have no in person contact as I was honestly afraid for my safety. Through screaming matches, threats, custody battles and potential physical harm; H unwaveringly stuck by my side. He was supportive, understanding, empathetic, always available, and even offered to have my daughter and I stay in his home for a couple days so my ex couldn’t find us. We didn’t, but the offer was surprisingly appreciated. H was the only person I felt truly safe with. I told him we should end the affair, he didn’t need my drama, but he wouldn’t have it. Wouldn’t let me walk away. Wouldn’t abandon me. Wouldn’t let me go through all this alone.
As the weather began to warm, H and I were closer than ever. My ex had finally begun to leave us alone and things had started to calm. We were going out in public more together with friends and made no secret to our feelings for one another, even unapologetically having sex in my friend D’s kitchen with her enjoying the show in plain site. A little scandalous maybe, but we were on the same page in every aspect of life and our relationship. It was all so bewitching, seductive, arousing, and blissful. I felt as if he had awakened my soul.
H said that he was giving his wife a 6 month ultimatum on things he needed her to change in order to have the relationship work out. I respected it and tried to provide a female perspective on tips and tricks for him to fix his marriage, suggesting flowers and date ideas. H is not one to ever buy flowers but he did for her at my recommendation. Nothing appeared to make a difference however. One week H had to go to Hawaii for work and ended up taking his wife as a final attempt. The whole week they were in Hawaii they fought and I felt like he spent most of the time on FaceTime with me. When they returned, things were no better, and me being in the picture obviously did not end up helping the situation. Out with my friends one night I got particularly waisted and blew up H’s phone with obscene and risque drunken text messages. His wife saw these and reached out telling me to back off from her personal phone number. I was embarrassed, felt horrible, and was afraid of the damage I had foolishly caused. I sincerely apologized to her and stopped responding to H. He continually reached out and didn’t want to end things with me though. I couldn’t walk away either. We continued to see each other at school and over time started texting and calling again.
Spring 2013, I made a new friend at school who, like H, I really did not like at first. She is now one of my best friends and I don’t think I would could have gotten through the next few years of my life without her. J was also majoring in Biology and we shared a few classes together. She was often found in the building I worked at on campus and had recently gone to costa rica on a school trip. I was officially over with my ex, though his stalking had not yet halted, and things with H were on edge with his wife. I needed a break. A fun weekend escape. I didn’t know much about J, and can’t even recall what drove me to ask her, but I invited her to a weekend in Vegas with myself and one other friend, an incredible woman named D. J agreed and a few weeks later we took off. She too was a mom and had an up and down relationship with the father of her children. Younger than me, she was strong willed, adventurous, and funny.
We showed up in Vegas together with my other friends sister. Somethings had come up and D was going to join us the next day, but sent her sweet and hilarious sister along in her stead. With more alcohol, and shoes, then we knew what to do with, we settled in and hit the strip. Getting the hook up with some clubs we ventured out that night in our best. Not seeking attention, we wanted drinks, music and fun. One club however became concerning as, upon entering behind my friends, I was suddenly picked up and literally carried away by a very large man to his VIP booth. Frightened and flustered, I was at a loss of words when he asked me to join his party. Lucky for me an Austrailian stranger soon came to my rescue. Having witnessed everything, the Aussie pretended to be with me, took me by the arm and walked me to the bar where my fiends were standing looking for me. I was grateful and needless to say did not feel like drinking much the rest of that night. It was made up for however the very next day. Lazy rivers are a pleasure of mine, if there is one available I will never turn it down. My friends and I got our Yard drinks of Pina coladas and, with no food in our stomachs, started floating around and around, completely in paradise. It was exactly what I needed. A guy approached and started to talking to my friends. I payed him, and all the other guys, no attention as men were precisely what I was trying to escape from. This guy was persistent though. At first I thought he was hitting on J, but turns out his sites were set on me. Information was exchanged at some point between them and later that night we met up with him and his fellow Canadian friends who were in town for a basketball tournament. Meeting at the Chandelier club, they wined and dined us with champaign, and took us around town in a limo. It was extravagant and the ultimate distraction. We all talked and drank, eventually ending the night at a strip club. J got a lap dance with the guys, as D and I took shot after shot. I honestly don’t remember much after that, including everyone getting back to the hotel and ending up in our room. My one and only one night stand happened that evening. I truly do not recall a lot of details, just that and I woke up thinking “wtf!”. H called the morning after and I didn’t have the heart to tell him when he, like always, asked if something happened. I eventually said I kissed the guy and messed around a bit, but didn’t admit to sleeping with him until only a month ago, 7 years later. I justified my secret with the fact that H was still married and sharing a bed with his wife every night back then, and I’m sure having sex. The rest of that trip however was chill and relaxing, exactly what I needed.
I don’t remember the exact date, but sometime in late winter/early spring 2013 I believe, H officially asked me on a real date. I had never been more excited in my life. Although I was free, I knew he was still very much married however, we had progressed so far that it didn’t seem to matter at this point. I called J freaking out about the pending date. She laughed and made fun of me asking “haven’t you guys been sleeping together for like a year?”. Although she was correct, somehow making us official with an actual date, made everything different. H insisted on picking me up, but as I was still living with my parents, I asked him to wait in the car. I was not ready for my family to know anything. Ready and nervously excited, I rushed out the front door without a word to my family who was sitting in the living room. My mom caught a glimpse of me and asked in a strange and demanding tone where I was going. I turned around to see H sitting on the couch with my dad watching T.V. How long had he been there? What did he tell them? What on earth was he doing? I was so taken aback that I ran back to my room to take a breath. I came back out, calmer, asked if he was ready, and we left. The date was perfect. He took me to a little seafood restaurant at near by harbor. Sweet, intimate, fun, romantic, and memorable. I was in heaven. We were officially dating and I was beyond ecstatic.
Rumors began again shortly after. I was called a “home wrecking whore” by classmates and his friends. Not a reputation one wants. It was devastating, soul crushing even. Maybe they were right, but I swear none of this was intentionally malicious or even sought after. I would say it just happened but we knew what we were doing. I was in love, just with a man I shouldn’t have had. Graduation was coming up and H had gotten accepted to Georgetown medical school in Washington DC. He would be moving completely across the country soon. It was heart breaking. We refused to say goodbye however. At least until some huge news slapped us across the face like impending doom. Driving to campus one morning H called me crying. He needed to talk to me in person but, as impatient as I am, I needed to know then and there what was going on. His wife was pregnant. Together for years and never a pregnancy scare, they had apparently slept together the night he says he asked her for a divorce, 3 months earlier. I was sickened by the news. In shock, as he said they hadn’t slept together in 6 months, and disguised with the both of us to be honest. I immediately broke down crying and had the overwhelming feeling to throw up. I said “well that’s what I get for falling in love with a married man” and proceeded to put my own feelings aside, asking how he was taking the news. His was mortified, didn’t know if the baby was his, and disappointed in himself. H’s response to me however, was that he felt terrible “for falling in love with someone who wasn’t his wife”. It was the first time we said I love you to each other. Crazy, I know. But it was pure, innocent, and truly from the heart- if you can believe it.
Only a few weeks before the conception of his daughter, I recall H telling a story of how he sat down with his dad in a desperate attempt to communicate his marital issues and find some sort of support. To his dismay, his parents ended up not being receptive to the situation to say the least. His dads response was “I am glad I have never had to deal with a situation like this. Don’t get her (H’s wife) pregnant!” for it would not fix anything and be the worst possible outcome. H’s mom was even more distant, claiming she “could not handle it”- whatever problems H was going through, and therefore didn’t want to know anything, shutting him down any time he tried to open up. Many of his friends were also friends with his wife so there were few whom he could turn to and open up about in regards to his failing marriage and his relationship with me. H claimed sex with his wife was every few months, if that, and that they used protection when it did happen, so pregnancy would be highly unlikely. We knew his wife was having an affair of her own and I was concerned about my sexual health, so I consistently inquired about their sexual frequency. He told me they weren’t sleeping together at all anymore by spring 2014, since him and I were regularly having unprotected sex. Turns out it was yet another tolerated lie. Shortly after the conversation with his dad, that is exactly what happened, H got his wife pregnant. His story is that she started crying when he asked for a divorce and basically threw herself at him in which he didn’t resist because he “felt bad”. I remember the conversation in its entirety as if it was yesterday. The whole thing has haunted me for years. As devastated as I was that H was about to become a father, yes with his wife in whom he had made vows to long ago, he somehow seemed even more broken over the whole thing than I. Him and I had been having conversations for months at that point that we wanted kids together, even half joking I should just get knocked up so then no one could contest us and hopefully all just leave us alone. That of course didn’t happen. He mentioned terrible thoughts of asking his wife to not keep it, but never went through with such notions.
I refused to speak to H for a little while after that. He would show up at school or my jobs trying to talk to me but I couldn’t bare to look at him. I felt so betrayed. Sounds crazy as I was officially the other woman. It still hurt though like nothing before. One day he sat outside my campus job with a gift for about an hr before our lab professor, who had no clue what was going on, said H looked heartbroken and I should go talk to him. My boss at the time, who did know what was going on and didn’t care much for H, agreed. She said I should talk to him and we needed to settle this. She could see how heartbroken we both were. We went to our frequented bar and talked and talked. Talked about life, talked about us, talked about what he was going to do now with a pregnant wife. He concluded that he couldn’t divorce her while she was pregnant, how would that look. I didn’t blame him. In fact I understood more than most, As a single mom myself, I wouldn’t wish being a single parent on anyone. It’s harder than society credits. I felt like he should try again with her. It’s what was right. He asked to take me to the beach on his base in order to spend just a little more time together, and I agreed. We walked on the sand before climbing a tower for the incredible view. H sat and held me tight as I curled up on his lap, drinking beers and saying a tearful goodbye, before we were escorted off by base security. Apparently the tower was off limits, though luckily H is an officer and so we didn’t end up getting in any trouble. I actually still have the beer cap from that day in my jewelry case. Something I couldn’t seem to let go of and I don’t think he knows about. It serves as a reminder of a time when I felt pure, genuine, innocent love.
You-and-Me-Wine 