Chapter 2; 2001

Spring, 2001

Our next trip was a business meeting in San Francisco; once again, I joyfully explored while he worked and then we walked downtown, shopped, ate Italian food and got an eyeful at Mitchell Brothers.  God, we had fun together.  Next was Chicago; walking hand in hand along the Miracle Mile in the snow.  In Vegas, we had sex in the back of a limo.  We explored downtown Denver, took a day trip to Breckenridge.  In Virginia Beach, at "our Doubletree," we sang to each other, took baths in the jetted tub, sat on the beach to watch the sunset but couldn't take our eyes off each other.  The chemistry, the conversation did anything but wane.  Things were reaching a fever pitch, and as the relationship sizzled, the pain attempted to push its way to the surface, despite my efforts to squash it.  I grew resentful.  I cried when we parted.  Six months had passed and I was madly in love-- we both were.  I made thinly veiled threats to end it, knowing I could no more tear myself away at this point than I could tear off my thumbs.

Then, suddenly and unexpectedly, I met someone else.  M.  Though I met him at the club as well, he was polite, sophisticated and handsome, and he began to come in to see me regularly.  He was an engineer.  A gentleman, chivalrous and generous with a gentle and soothing demeanor.  After some time, he asked me to dinner and this time I said yes without asking for compensation.  We had a very enjoyable time, good conversation and comfortable fun-- and by the end of the night, he shared-- at my direct question-- that he was married and had four children. Ohhh-- come on.  I was stunned.  What was going on with me?  Never before had I had any attention from a married man, and now two?

I decided to continue to see him as a customer, to retain that lucrative relationship at least.  And I did; he came to see me weekly and made my night when he did, both because he paid well and because I truly enjoyed his company.  The next time he asked me to dinner, I said yes.  I justified my decision with, "There are obviously already problems at home," or "If it weren't me, it would be someone else," that kind of thing.  Or, more often than not, I'd just put it out of my mind.  Regardless, it began.

Nothing had cooled with FH as I began to date M.  I juggled, I lied, I lived two lives.  I was crazy about FH but tired of hearing him talk about how much he couldn't stand his wife but just needed to "figure things out" financially before he made a move, and then of course there was his daughter.  He vehemently declared his love for me and claimed that he planned to leave, but... who knew?  Time ticked by.  I dated them both, madly in love with FH and comfortably entertained by M, who not only was a pleasant distraction but happily continued to supplement my income.

Once, on a whim of honesty while on a trip together, I told FH about M, and that he, too, was married.  He looked shocked and hurt, which deep down I relished.  Nope, doesn't feel great, does it? I thought.  I remember his asking, "Why another married guy?"  to which, if I had been thinking quickly enough, I would have responded, "Why even one married guy?"  Instead I mumbled something indicating that he had given me no reason to do otherwise, and he argued a bit but soon gave up.  I had to let him know how it felt to know the person you are in love with is being-- being!! --with someone else.  The news didn't dampen our relationship for long, however, and at this point we were a great deal in love, open and expressive about it.  This was legitimately something to be reckoned with, and we began to discuss, seriously, when things would start to move forward.

At the same time, I was truly enjoying M.  He was 15 years my senior, the most buttoned-down Latino you can imagine, but not without a flair for romance, unrivaled chivalry, and-- as it turned out--  a bit of a jealous streak.  We got along terrifically and he was gallant in a way I'd never experienced.  He made me feel like a princess all the time-- like I was his muse, a fantasy, everything he was missing in life.  I shared with him my desire to settle down and have a baby, and he looked me straight in the eye and shyly raised his hand as if to be called upon for the task.  I suddenly saw a spark of something: possibility.  He was now supplementing my income whether he came to the club or not, and we started spending more time in the "real world" than the in the black lights.  He began making comments about filing for divorce, and subtly alluding to a future with me.  I still saw FH every chance I got-- I lied shamelessly to M to be able to rendezvous with FH-- and I loved him madly, but he hadn't made any moves, so I allowed my relationship with M to develop.  At times I would get the feeling that I was pushing myself into something that I didn't sincerely want-- I liked him, but it wasn't the avalanche of feeling that it was with FH-- M's kindness, devotion, and how good he made me feel made up for it.  A few times I would suddenly panic and tell M I thought we should end it; I didn't feel like it was a long-term thing, you're so good to me, but I'm sorry, I just can't, blah blah blah.  Another time he told me he was going back to his family, to which I dramatically threatened to blackmail him for the money he was giving me each month.  Every time we called it off, one of us would eventually give in, make contact and it would start right back up where it left off.  He took me to Carnaval in Rio for my 30th birthday, we traveled to places like Argentina and Buzios; he always had an adventure planned and I was having a great time.  He was winning me over.  But now-- I was still juggling, and these were getting to be pretty heavy balls; it was getting harder.  Something was going to give, I could feel it.

I was feeling ready to settle down and grew more and more frustrated with FH.  I remember clearly, poolside at the Hard Rock Hotel in Vegas, giving him a written date, exactly 6 months away, by which he had to file for divorce or else I was done.  He negotiated two more months (businessman through and through).  I knew I would wait.  I loved him excruciatingly.  Yet simultaneously, M began to show real promise for the life I was yearning for.  Also, FH wanted me to move to Philadelphia-- M was right here in the city that I loved, my home.

Approximately two years into my love affair with FH, he did leave his wife-- moved out and filed for divorce (three days after the date we'd agreed on).  When he told me he had done so, I insisted that he fax me the papers, which he immediately did.  It was true-- he really had done it.  But even as I read the court documents, I realized something had switched in me; I had been waiting too long, and had decided to I wanted to stay in FL and try to make a life with M, who by this time had already left his wife, was living out of his office and looking for a house to rent with the intention of us living in it together.

I had to tell FH right away.  We scheduled a trip (again, I had to lie to M about my whereabouts), just a fun getaway for no other reason, as far as he knew, than to see each other, and I almost immediately sprung the news that I had changed my mind:  I was going to stay in FL and was ending it with him, right now.  Needless to say, he was crushed and stunned... after all, he had finally done what I'd been waiting so long for.  But I felt that I'd either just stopped wanting it or most likely the waiting just got to me.  We were still going to spend that night together, for the last time (so I thought).  He went out with business contacts that night and returned at 2 am, drunk.  I remember in that moment believing wholeheartedly that I had made the right decision.

That didn't stop me from sobbing hysterically as I drove away from him the next morning, despite the fact that he was so hung over that we couldn't sit outside for breakfast because the sunlight hurt his head.  Gross.  Somehow that didn't lessen the pain of our goodbye; nothing could have.  


Eventually, I dried my tears and drove home to M and prepared to begin the daunting task of forgetting that phase of my life, putting FH out of my head.  Good luck to me....