Twisted Knot

standing date (edited)

     Every Tuesday at 12:15, I have a standing date with a man who is not my husband. It's never been tawdry, and I am not having an emotional affair.

      I googled the whole concept, emotional affair,  just to be safe. I don't lie about seeing him, I don't dress up for him, and I don't think about him all the time. There were a ton of other things to look for, and they all rang out that I was a good wife -- that I am a good wife. Whatever. The truth is that I never meant to develop a close friendship with a man, and a single man at that. It just sort of happened. What I do every Tuesday is different from what my lying husband did with our nanny. Trust me, the photographic evidence is burned into my skull forever, and I know nothing like that has ever happened with Paul.

     I met Paul a couple of months ago, and it was such a strange encounter. I had been planning on surprising my husband, Stefan, with a little office picnic. I was trying to keep the romance alive; now I realize he was probably screwing his busty coworker at lunch. I made all of the food and somehow, when I was slicing fruit, I stabbed myself in the ring finger. I had to wear one of the hideous finger band aids, and I took off my wedding ring. No big deal, right? I hadn't been hit on in eight years, and my upcoming 30th birthday ensured I didn't need to worry about it happening. So I showed up to my husband's work, and he had already left for a meeting. So I left my picnic basket with his secretary and stopped by a nearby coffee shop, hoping to brighten up my day with some reading. I edit books for self-publishing authors through an online business, so I always carried manuscripts and red pens in my purse.

     After sitting down with some coffee, I checked my watch. Two hours until my son, Jeremy, was out of school. I nuzzled into my newest book, a children's book about a fairy princess. It wasn't Hemingway, but it paid the bills. About three pages in, I heard someone clearing his throat. I looked up to see a man my age, with shaggy hair and Harry Potter glasses. That may make him sound geeky, but the geeky look sort of worked for him. He smiled, and I looked around, seeing empty tables beside me. He didn't need to borrow a chair, though I would have obliged.

"Is there any chance your name is Sarah?" He asked. "Because I am having a bad day and if you are Sarah, I'll be happy again."

I nearly choked, unsure how to respond. He was a peculiar man.

"I don't know what to say," I said. "My name is not Sarah, but I feel like lying about that might be better than causing you grief. Should I give you a hotline number or something?"

He laughed and sat down beside me, not asking permission.

     "No hotline number needed here," he said. "I am here to meet a blind date. First time on a date in four years, and I am sort of freaking out. You just look so warm and beautiful; I was hoping you were my date."

I felt my face get all hot.

"I'm married," I said. "And my name is Liz."

My husband usually calls me Beth, but my full name is Elizabeth. The truth is, I always hated the name Beth. With Stefan, I put up with it, but I don't prefer it.

"I'm Paul," he said. "So how'd you get to be the lucky one? In a happy marriage, here reading with a latte, not a care in the world?"

I just smiled.

     "I met my husband when I was young and vibrant," I said, with sadness in my words.I wasn't young anymore. "And I am not carefree. I'm not reading. I am editing a manuscript. I work as an online editor, so this is work for me."

"Sounds like fun," Paul said. "Do you mind if I talk to you until Sarah gets here?"

"That's fine," I said. "I work from home and don't get enough adult conversation. My job is good; I work when Jeremy is at school."

"Good," he said. "So married lady, any advice for a single guy?"

"Be yourself," I said, like I was a kindergarten teacher on crack. He laughed. "But seriously, be yourself. You seem nice, friendly, and attractive. How have you gone four years without a date?" Paul sighed.

"My fiancé killed herself," he said. "I just wasn't ready until now."

      "Wow, that was a bombshell," I replied. "I'm so sorry."

"Thanks," he said quietly. "But hey, enough about me, how long have you been married?"

"Nine years, almost," I said. He raised his eyebrows.

"You can't be that old," he said. "You're maybe 27..."

"Twenty-nine, almost 30," I said. "We got married on my 21st birthday. It was a little sudden, but my husband was the one. He is older and pretty successful. We just...clicked."

"I hope women like older men; Sarah is 24. And I'm 35, so..."

"Well, it will be ok," I said. "And if it's not, you should still be proud of yourself for going out and trying. The pursuit of love is dangerous; cowards need not apply."

Paul laughed and saw his phone. His face fell.

"No one told Sarah that," he said, turning his phone towards me. She had texted him a last minute cancellation, not giving a good reason. Paul and I talked for a while, and I was ready to leave.

     "Listen, I know this is probably inappropriate," Paul said. "But I like you. Not like in a creepy way, but I like talking to you. If it's not totally against some marriage rule, maybe we could be friends, chat some more."

"I don't know. I don't see the harm... I will ask my husband and see what he thinks." Paul nodded.

"Well, if our friendship passes the husband test," Paul said, "I come here every Tuesday at noon. Maybe I will see you next week..."

I nodded, before replying with a "maybe." Stefan hadn't minded because he trusted me and was probably excited I had someone else to talk to. All of my friends are working full time, and I got lonely. So I met up with Paul on the next Tuesday, and now we have a standing friend date.

     It was perfect and not messy at all. I never felt guilty about having a male friend before.

Until I went to meet Paul on a Friday night in a diner, after my husband told me he'd been having an affair. My marriage was shattered, my heart was bleeding, and my friend was there to pick up the pieces. That's just the beginning of when things got twisted beyond repair.

((Dedication to adam_and_jane for editing for me!))