Only a week and a half after meeting him, I was having a full-blown affair with a married man and could no longer recognize my life.I’d been unemployed for almost a year and spent most of my time alone, on top of which I hadn’t dated or had sex in the four years I’d been hung up on my ex.I couldn’t eat or sleep and I could barely function, let alone try to find work. Once again, I couldn’t recognize my life, and I didn’t know what had happened to me.What I did know was that this was it—I’d hit rock bottom.But in the muted light of my apartment that day, I made a decision that I was in for the long haul.I decided that I’d stand by him through his separation and divorce, no matter how painful, emotionally trying, and financially draining it was.
And based on what I could tell from his online persona, he was married. I’ve caused the demise of many,” I wrote, declining his offer, and clicked Send. “The last thing you need is another literary married man,” she said, referring to my ex, a successful writer whom I hadn’t been able to get over for years. I told myself I’d go just to get more information, but if it turned out that he was in fact married, I wasn’t interested.I’d be by his side regardless of how many friends’ couches he had to crash on, and through a shitty first apartment in a crappy neighborhood with no furniture and bare walls.Warmth spread out from my heart and across my chest and I knew; I was going to make this work, and we were going to be able to have a legitimate relationship.Looking over the menu, we talked about writing as if this was a business lunch, but my heart was pounding.“You know everything about me and I don’t know anything about you,” I said, because he’d read my writing, so he knew all about my childhood traumas, bad breakups, and struggles with depression, anxiety, and OCD. We’d only just met, but we could already tell each other everything about ourselves.