Betrayal

"Faithfulness is to the emotional life what consistency is to the life of the intellect - simply a confession of failures." - Oscar Wilde

Before I begin this little missive, I would like to make it very clear that I am not having an affair. I repeat, I am not having an affair. The topic seems to be very...well, topical...lately. It's coming up all over the place in conversation. I've given the matter much thought. As you read, please keep in mind these basic premises:

1. I'm referring to a relationship, not a random night of drunken sex. So, when I use the term "affair" I invite you to imagine that as something that includes more than physicality.
2. I'm speaking of people that are clinically sane and reasonably intelligent.
3. Happily married people do not cheat. Period. One or both parties may think everything is perfect in their relationship, but if that's the case, they are in denial. People in fulfilling relationships do not look outside of that for pleasure, because the stakes are simply too high. (Unless they do not fit neatly into one of the categories assumed in the above item).
4. As it's a given that the original relationship is broken in some capacity or another, it's kind of hard for me, being the logical beast that I am, to get too bent out of shape with empathetic misery for the person being cheated on. Yeah, yeah...I know. My moral compass is a little rusty.
5. Nothing happens in isolation. It's not like some sex-pot man or woman comes flying out of the woodwork and sweeps another off their feet. I'd wager that every person on the planet has had a terribly attractive and compelling person in their lives whose sexual advances they HAVE been able to resist.

Phew, now that that is out of the way, I repeat: I am not having an affair. Phew, now that that's out of the way...

It strikes me as somewhat amusing, somewhat surprising that an affair, a relationship built almost entirely on lies, can quickly become one of the most honest and open relationships a person could possibly have.

Affairs progress rapidly - often, they burn themselves out with their own plentitude, but just as often, they begin as something rather innocent and morph into something larger than life. Why? Because from the very start, you are forced to face nothing but each other, warts and all.

From the first moment, you know the very worst thing possible about the other person - that they are simply not trustworthy. You accept this as a matter of fact, and you don't give it much thought, because you're not trustworthy either. What does this mean? It means that from the very first kiss you share, you've accepted one huge, major character flaw. In reality, we're all merely simple humans, with flaws and failures. We can all be trustworthy, but as a rule, we're only as reliable as our own needs allow us to be. Ponder that one for a few. Please.

So, there you are - flawed you and your flawed object of desire- testing the waters, seeing if something exists between you. Clearly there's a physical attraction, a physical attraction that's bigger than simply finding the other person attractive. There's a physical attraction that is so intense you're willing to gamble for it. No, you're not simply willing to gamble - you're willing to go "all in" just to experience that feeling - once. That's some pretty impressive desire - I want to feel that way about someone.

Passion overwhelms you and you two sneak off somewhere to experience each other - tensions are mounting, pressure is building...and finally, the release is either anticlimatic or Earth-shattering. If it's a let-down, no harm, no foul. You simply march on your merry (marry?) way and try to forget your mistake. You'll be the world's best spouse for a couple of months simply from the guilt - and I can almost guarantee your spouse will be the clueless recipient of a home-cooked dinner and a back massage that night.

If it's Earth-shattering, flawed you and flawed lover have an issue. Of course, you're not thinking clearly, you're simply thinking about the next time you'll be able to feel the tremor. So you plot, and you plan and you connive. You're thinking about the person obsessively, dreaming up ways to pleasure them with even more intensity that the previous encounter. They are too. They loved what you experienced, heightened by the taboo nature. Perhaps one of you makes an effort to contact the other - a sexy little email, a thinly-veiled hint regarding your soon-to-be whereabouts, a forbidden phone call. It escalates to a fever-pitch, largely the result of your own mental creation.

In isolation, you've both made remarkable efforts to satisfy the other's longings - her toe nails are perfect, her bikini line freshly waxed. He's dressed to please and wearing the good cologne. Above all - the anticipation you feel is sending an electric charge through every fiber of your being, and everyone you see can feel that heat radiating from you. It's no surprise that your next encounter is even more mind-boggling than the first. You're a junkie now, and you'll do anything for your fix.

Together, you establish some guidelines and figure out how to keep lighting that pipe. With each encounter, you share each other physically with raw passion and complete abandon. You've got nothing to lose - at least not with each other. You've done it - you crossed the line. You know you're going to have sex again, because you can't imagine not having sex again.

Neither of you has to play coy - there's no point in trying to hide your basal nature - you've both accepted each other as flawed already. That's some pretty heady stuff, there. Think about it - that's really getting down to basics. You're both animals with needs and wants. Not only do you accept it - you embrace it.

Your initial attraction to the person was MORE than just physical. It had to have been because no sane or reasonably intelligent person would really it all for "just sex". Maybe they made you laugh. Maybe they had a mind that impressed you. Maybe they were outgoing just like you, or athletic just like you, or...it doesn't matter - there was something. So as the two of you lay next to each other, satisfied and refreshed, you begin to talk to each other. With no need to sugar-coat things, or to try to put on airs, you begin to really, really talk to each other. Now things get really sticky.

You feel as if you can speak very freely to the other person. They don't judge you or try to use your words against you because you're wrapped in each others arms, genuinely liking this person, genuinely intersted in this person. You feel like they *know* you and understand your wants and needs in a way that the other lover in your life simply cannot. You feel, more than you ever have, safe. You are completely safe to be your real, flawed self in the arms of your real, flawed lover. I know...it's ironic. But it's also true.

Now you're not just sexual partners, you're intimate with one another, but you've got one huge advantage over all the other lovers in the world. It isn't a "real" relationship and as such, you don't have to deal with "real life" issues. It doesn't matter if his sister is an overbearing bitch, or if your father will never accept him. It doesn't matter if she promised to pick up your dry-cleaning and it's her turn to do the dishes but you're elbow-deep in suds with nothing to wear to work the next day. That crap simply isn't a factor.

You've drilled it down to the basics - to what every loving relationship really should be about - the two of you - enjoying and appreciating each other in body, mind and spirit.

You lay there, sticky with each others sweat, nude and entwined in each others arms, talking about everything and nothing. Getting to know each other. Listening to each other. Truly and wholly enjoying each other for who you are, appreciating each other. It's easy because the situation has forced you to filter out all the bullshit of daily life, the reality that bogs you down and distracts you from sharing ALL of yourself with the one you love.

It's just the two of you - raw and real, vulnerable and flawed, perfectly imperfect and enjoying the hell out of each other. It doesn't get more open and honest than that.