Oh gosh. I’ve had at least a handful of them. Mostly they happened when I was getting sick and I was desperate at the emotional separation between me and my wife, I had no idea what to do. I believed that if I spoke to her about what I felt I needed, she’d just divorce me and I didn’t want that.
I thought I could have a sexual affair, but it didn’t really work out that way. In the end, I started meeting women online at a site not unlike this one. It was really weird, looking back on it now. I just read a series of letters I wrote to one of the earlier ones, trying to figure out how it happened. I realized that the mania I had gave me a confidence and recklessness that I didn’t have when I was healthy.
It’s sad to me that I have to be manic to be like that. I’m not really an attractive person (love-wise) when I’m normal. Women just seem to overlook me that way. I’m sure it’s the sensible thing to do, but still, it would be nice to know I was attractive that way, still.
Anyway, I was looking for someone who would love me and have sex with me, and be satisfied with that. I got the former. Maybe the latter, if you count simultaneous masturbation. Personally, I don’t think it counts, but I can see how people would think that it does.
Anyway, I went through a series of these things, each one last approximately a month. It was like an addiction. I would get high during the falling in love phase and I would be on top of the world, and then reality would hit (they were all in parts of the country far from me, and they all had husbands or other constraints) and I would feel like they no longer cared for me.
I think I was pushing them away by demanding more from them. They would go away and I would crash and be nearly suicidal until the next one came along. And she did. God knows how or why. In fact, some of them practically lassoed me. So, up again. Crash again. Up again. Crash again. I think this happened five or six times. Then I told my wife what I was doing.
She was both badly hurt and badly worried. Worry won out. She kept her hurt in, and got me to a psychiatrist, and then stood by me for two years, helping to nurse me back to health before she finally let herself feel the hurt. It turned out that she loved me more than I could have possibly imagined. I’m a lucky, lucky guy.
One of the lessons I learned from this is that there is no one better than my wife. No woman can fix me. Only I can fix me. If I were to get into a relationship with someone else, it would end up in the same place because I would make it end up there, somehow.
I don’t understand how it works. I believe that I must put out some kind of invisible (at least to me) signal that I am available or I am unavailable. People seem to be able to read me in some magical way.
This is not the only way people seem to magically read me. Prospective employers seemed to magically know that my heart wasn’t really into working for them. It was as if “raving socialist” was written across my face.
I don’t really think it’s magic. I think it’s some kind of attitude or body language or edge to words or something that subliminally tell people who I am and what I am up to at the moment. Strange. I felt really bad about myself and these emotional affairs with a number of women did nothing to fix me. I feel good about myself, and my marriage is working.
Scary.