Last night I dreamed of Mr. X and finally let him get close enough to touch me in a rather lascivious way. No details. But by my standards, it was the closest thing to a wet dream I’ve had since I was 25. Thing is, even in my dreams I am averse to his advances and ultimately, pushed him away in my dreamy reverie saying “maybe another time.”
In real life, Mr. X is married. Three beautiful children and a lovely wife of eight years. I’ve known him for five and in between my boyfriends, without fail, he propositions me. He would flat out deny this of course. As would I in mixed company. But that’s neither here nor there. In my book, “It would just be one little quickie while the kids are in school” is kind of a proposition.
The true philanderer reading would hope that this post takes a more liberal turn. Sorry to disappoint. But it won’t.
The truth is, I can’t stand the idea of married men chasing after women. Period. Sure, I am liberal. I have wider boundaries than most. Much wider that at times I often scare myself. But there’s a moralistic side to my nature that screams for rightness and goodness. Don’t fucking cheat on your wife. Don’t be so fucking self-absorbed that you have to stab that women whom you loved once, who is very possibly the mother of your children, in the back. In the heart. In the gut. Don’t do it.
Heck, I understand misdemeanors. Things sometimes just happen. People are ultimately weak. But I don’t get the YEARS a man devotes to affairs and shameless flirting all the while REMAINING in the marriage. If you want out so bad, get out.
And it’s not that I don’t appreciate the flirtation and advances. Oh, I do. And I will flirt back. But there’s an imaginary line that I will not cross. And I’m quite proud of that line. See? There it is. The line. Don’t cross it.
Anyway, this wasn’t meant to be an I’ll chop your balls off feminist rant. Really. That’s not me. If anything, I tend to feel sorry for men like that. Just not sorry enough to become anything more than a wet dream.