I hate these moments. I'm cruising along through life, just doing my thing, then all of a sudden, WHAM! Clarity.
It's then that I can see what is always staring me in the face, but I so deftly avoid seeing. Oh, sure, deep down inside I know what's there. But denial is a powerful self-preservation tool.
Almost a year ago, a couple of friends began revealing to me the degraded state of their marriage. The husband went farther: he propositioned me after the wife had gone to bed. He suggested that we be friends with benefits.
For eight months he persisted. For eight months I demurred, denied, and squirmed my way out of ever doing anything. Sure, there was a drunken kiss I regret to this day. But I was so careful not to lead him on. I actually worried about his feelings. Unreal.
I wasn't particularly attracted to him. I always thought of him as my goofy neighbor. This man has never made a secret of the fact that he wants nothing more than to save his marriage. So what the hell does that make me? He professes to adore me and have nothing but the utmost respect for me, but how much respect could he have if I'm nothing but a plaything? Someone to fill the physical void left by his wife.
As to the clarity I first wrote of: I am so keenly aware that I was treated as little more than a whore he was trying hire.
See, clarity is a drag.
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