my lover...

Let me begin by saying that I never intended to have a lover.

And, yes, I know that adultery is wrong, so don't bother reminding me in any comments you leave.

In fact, my lover and I are both completely aware of our sins.

Yet, neither of us feel a bit of remorse or guilt.

It's hard to feel guilty about being with your soul-mate.

I mentioned in my last entry, that I had begun to realize that there was a lack of intimacy with my husband. Not just physical, but emotional and spiritual as well. We connected intellectually and could talk for hours. But we did not know how to share our dreams and our fears. We could not pray together or worship in abandon together. And we were never comfortable being naked together.

I often wondered about Adam and Eve. Did they truly romp though the Garden in the nude? How could they not be self-conscious about it?

Though I saw glimpses of intimacy in the marriages of friends, it was never enough to give me the full picture of what was missing in my marriage. I knew something wasn't right, but I didn't know how to fix it.

And now that I know what's wrong, I don't know that it can be fixed.

Because now I know what it's like to be truly intimate with someone- to lay yourself bare and become completely vulnerable. The intimacy between my lover and I was spontaneous. I learned quickly that I could trust my whole heart to him, and he knows the same of me.

The intimacy happened naturally. I wasn't looking for it, because I didn't know it could exist outside the pages of a good romance novel (and by good, I mean along the lines of the connection between Anne and Frederick in Persuasion, not the tawdry trash currently published as romance novels).

When we first became lovers, it was with the understanding that it was just about finding physical pleasure. We were already very good friends and he was aware of the troubles in my marriage. He could not offer a solution for the other problems, but he could take me to his bed and give me immense satisfaction.

One thing we decided from the beginning was to keep the lines of communication open. If either of our feelings started to change- if we began to become more emotionally involved- we would reevaluate the situation. I had no desire to end my marriage. I do not want my children to grow up without mom and dad together. My lover agreed.

We were just friends meeting mutual needs and we believed we could keep it from becoming more.

We were fools.

We started sharing our love and affection for each other almost from the beginning. We were best friends, after all, so naturally, we loved and cared for each other and expressed it frequently. But we were careful to distinguish "love" from "in love". I didn't want to be in love with him, because I knew it could mean certain doom for my marriage. I didn't want him to be in love with me, because I knew our relationship would end one day (after all, he would have to get married eventually- he couldn't stay with a married woman indefinitely) and I didn't want him hurt.

The day I realized I had fallen in love with him was the first day that I kept a secret from him. His potential reaction stayed my tongue. I thought long and hard about the ramifications of sharing my discovery, but in the end, I realized that to keep it from him was a betrayal of our intimacy.

So, I told him. His reaction? Surprise and an honest admission that he didn't know if he could say the same in return. Since I truly wasn't trying to force that kind of response from him, I was satisfied with his answer.

But I would be lying if I didn't admit that I was thrilled beyond measure when he told me three days later that he was also in love with me.

Knowing what real intimacy is like, I can't imagine sharing it with my husband. I can't see how we will ever connect on the level I need. I feel doomed to a marriage of insipidness and mediocrity.

But since the happiness and well-being of my children is more important to me than my own happiness, doomed I remain.