Our Story

by PerfessorYessir

©Copyright 2023 by PerfessorYessir

Chapter 1

Jumping back into the dating pool after a divorce is pure hell.

I mean, I never thought I’d have to do this again. After I got married, all of those worries about how I looked and whether or not she liked me and whether or not I should kiss her or how far I could go just disappeared. After all, she said yes, and I put the ring on her finger, and we kissed, and we were going to have our own happily-ever-after.

At that point I was pretty sure she liked me, and I could kiss her and go all the way with her pretty much whenever I wanted, and it didn’t really matter how I looked.

Looking back, maybe that was part of our problem.

After the cheating, and the lies, and the discovery, and the fights, and the tears, and the moving out, I was suddenly a middle-aged guy on my own. At first I didn’t really mind that much. I knew I didn’t ever want to risk going through the whole divorce thing again, and I liked spending time the way I wanted to spend it without worrying about somebody else. Fuck, who needed intimacy?.

Then a few months turned into a few years, and I found myself wanting to be in a relationship again. Sure, I missed the sex, but I also missed the closeness, and having somebody to talk to and do things with. I realized that I didn’t want to come home after work to an empty apartment for the rest of my life.

How the hell do you get back into dating, though? After years of not having to worry about that sort of thing, it turned out to be incredibly hard just to meet somebody to ask out. I tried a couple of those “swipe-right, swipe-left” apps, but they just made me feel ridiculous. I mean, I knew I had much more confidence and self-assurance now than I ever did in my teens or twenties, so how come I felt so lost?

After several months of frustration and disappointment that yielded nothing more than a handful of awkward disaster-dates, I finally had an epiphany. I was getting nowhere trying to meet strangers, so why not date somebody I already knew?

I decided to ask out a woman I’d known for a long time. Charlotte was an elementary school teacher. We were a similar age, and we had both survived a tough divorce. We had college-age children, and we occasionally emailed or met for coffee to talk about our kids. Maybe it was time to talk about “us”, instead?

When I suggested it, she was dubious, to put it mildly. We emailed back-and-forth for some time, discussing the pros and cons. It was a frank discussion, and neither of us tried to talk the other into - or out of - anything.

Divorce had been as devastating for her as it has been for me, and she didn’t want to put herself in the position of being hurt again. At the same time, she admitted that she also missed intimacy and didn’t want to spend the rest of her life alone. I didn’t know it at the time, but she had also tried the dating scene for a while and found it less-than-satisfying.

When she finally agreed to go out with me, it was with several stipulations. We’d take it one date at a time, and at the end of each date we’d honestly decide whether or not we should go out again - no waiting for one or the other to call. She also wanted to spend at least a couple of dates completely clearing the air about our exes before we moved on. It may seem strange to you, but I knew exactly where she was coming from so I agreed.

For our first date, we met for coffee and bagels at a very popular spot one Sunday morning. At her suggestion, we focused on talking about what we loved about our exes and why we had fallen in love with them. We ended up having a great time.

It was surprisingly easy to talk about everything I liked about my ex, what had attracted me to her, and why I’d fallen in love with her. It also turned out to be great hearing her talk about her ex in the same way. She let her guard down as she looked back on those good times, and she seemed happier and more relaxed. At the end of the date, we both agreed that we’d had fun and wanted to do it again.

Chapter 2

Our second date wasn’t nearly as fun, but it was just as necessary. We had agreed that we’d spend it talking about what we hated, or at least what had bothered us most, about our exes. For this meeting we had chosen a loud and hectic Italian place downtown that had a reputation for great food.

It was a late dinner, and the noise of the hip dining-and-drinking crowd seemed to create a bubble around our booth. We both felt like we could make ourselves heard without being overheard.

It doesn’t seem like it would be too bad listening to your date talk about how awful her ex was, does it? It took a lot of self-restraint, though. There were times when I agreed with what she was saying, and times I didn’t, but I had to keep telling myself that it wasn’t my place to take sides or even really comment at all. This was more about me actively listening to her and trying to understand how she felt.

Then it was my turn to talk about my ex, and that had the potential to get pretty dark. It had been easy talking about how much I’d loved her and what had attracted me to her, but I didn’t really want to relive everything that had wrecked our relationship and made me into one of those dads who only saw his kids every-other weekend. I knew I had to, though. If I didn’t, this wasn’t going to go any further.

I think the real point here was that we were honest with each other. We were honest about our exes’ failings, but also about our own, and I think we got a glimpse into how much we’d each grown. At the end of the night, we agreed that there should be a third date.

For this meeting we chose an upscale steakhouse. We went on a Tuesday night, so that it wouldn’t be as crowded, and when I made the reservation I told the manager that it was a special occasion and we really wanted some privacy. When we arrived, we found that we were the only patrons seated in a small dining room off to the side, whereas all of the other patrons were seated in the main dining room. Perfect.

We got down to business as soon as we were seated and our drinks had been served - a Manhattan for me, and a chardonnay for her. I knew it was coming, but it was still a shock when she asked, “So, tell me how and why you cheated.” Yes, that was the theme we had agreed upon for tonight’s date, and apparently I was going to go first.

We both expected honesty of one another, and I knew that tonight’s date would probably determine whether or not there were any others. So, I took a drink and looked her in the eye and answered.

“Our children were young, and we were having some money issues. I was stuck in a dead-end job that didn’t pay a whole heck of a lot. I honestly wasn’t showing a lot of initiative, but I was young and didn’t really know what I wanted to do with my life. I didn’t know how to get another job or even what other job I wanted.

“When a new position opened in another department in my company, I bid on it. When I interviewed for it I was told it would be a promotion, and that it would come with a raise. We were so excited that things finally seemed to be happening for me, and there was the prospect of more money coming in! We immediately began planning everything we could do with the extra cash flow.

“When I got the job, though, the CEO stepped in and said that she considered it a lateral move, not a promotion, and there would be no raise.

“We were crushed. I enjoyed the new job more, but aside from that everything we had planned just evaporated. It was toward the end of the year, so there was also the pressure of the holidays. We got pretty…distant. There wasn’t a lot of communication, and sex just stopped. For about three months, right into the new year, we almost stopped being a couple and started acting like housemates.”

I paused to take another drink. The whiskey tasted great, and I really needed it. She had been listening intently, and when I drank she sipped her wine for the first time. I wasn’t really sure if she liked it or not, because she didn’t change her expression at all.

Chapter 3

She had incredibly attractive, warm brown eyes, and she knew just how to wear the right amount of shadow and liner to bring them out. She wore her brown hair mid-length, and it was cut to highlight her face. She was shorter, a bit curvy, and when she smiled her cheeks had the most amazing dimples.

But she wasn’t smiling right now. She kept her expression carefully neutral, and as soon as she put her glass down she said, “So, you’re telling me it wasn’t your fault that you cheated?”

“No, not at all,” I replied. “I take full responsibility. It was a tough situation - for both of us - but that’s no excuse for doing what I did.”

“Okay,” she said, nodding. “So, who was she?”

“Her name was Patrice, and she was also married, with two boys.”

“How did you meet her?”

“Craigslist,” I replied, feeling some shame. When her eyebrows went up, I continued, “No, it wasn’t somebody I already knew, and it wasn’t some chance thing that ‘just happened’. I took out a personal ad.”

“You went looking for it,” she said, matter-of-factly.

I took another drink. This was harder than I thought it would be.

“Yes,” I replied, “though I never actually thought I’d meet anybody. At least that’s how I justified it to myself at the time. I mean, I was sure all I’d get from a personal ad would be scams or hookers. To tell you the truth, the ad had been up for three or four weeks with no real result when she replied to it. I’d honestly almost forgotten that I’d placed it.”

She gave me a disbelieving side-eye, and I quickly continued.

“No, really, I’d gotten just what I thought I would. Women who assured me they were in the exact same boat, and if I’d just sign up for this or that website I could see their scandalous pictures. Women who told me they’d be happy to date me, if only I’d help them out with some expenses. ‘Women’ who promised to send me their pictures and meet up with me if only I’d send them pictures of my wife or daughters…”

That one shook her up a bit, and she actually gasped, her face showing shock.

“Yeah,” I said, “not that I ever considered anything like that! I just blocked ‘em, but it got sad and tedious pretty quickly. I mean, I knew I was doing something wrong, but it was…upsetting to see how many real perverts there were out there.”

“So, what did this Patrice say that got your interest?”

“Hi, I read your ad on Craigslist and I think we should talk.”

“Really?” she asked. “That was it?”

“Yeah,” I replied. “I mean I thought she was probably another hooker or scam artist. I sent a quick, polite reply thanking her for answering my ad and asking her to tell me more about herself.

“She responded within the hour, telling me about her situation - husband, children - and that she wasn’t happy in her marriage. She didn’t want to end it, or hurt mine, but she needed something more.”

Charlotte was giving me a scornful, cynical smile.

“What?” I asked.

“She wanted to have her cake and eat it, too,” she said.

“Maybe,” I replied, surprised that after all this time I still felt the need to defend Patrice. “But, honestly, that’s just how I felt. I mean, I didn’t want to end my marriage, or hurt anybody, but I wanted…”

“What?” she prompted when my pause went on and on.

“Well, like I’ve said, we were having a tough time at home. I wanted somebody whose company I could enjoy without having to worry about finances and kids and all of the tough work that comes with marriage. But at the same time, I didn’t want to blow up my life or anybody else’s. I never, ever intended to hurt anybody.

“I guess,” I continued, thinking it through slowly, “what I really wanted was to go back to those exciting days of getting involved with somebody new. You know, you’re finding out about them, and they’re finding out about you, and everything is just fun. But I certainly wasn’t looking for a replacement for my wife.”

“Okay, I think I understand,” Charlotte said quietly, looking down at her drink again. After a moment, she asked what came next.

Chapter 4

“Weeks of emailing,” I said. She was clearly surprised at that, so I nodded and continued.

“We were both so paranoid about being discovered that we never contacted one another while we were home. But at work, we’d send emails back and forth like crazy. We used our phones, of course, because neither of us wanted our employers to get wind of what was happening. It was work for an hour, check the phone, read a quick email, then send one off in response.”

“Taking a lot of time away from the job there, weren’t you?” she asked.

“Actually, I felt like my productivity went through the roof. I was working so hard to finish things and reach milestones so that I could check my email once again. And it was always such a thrill to open my inbox and find a new email there! It was a little bit like a drug.”

“But, didn’t you want to meet?” she asked.

“Not right away,” I said, shaking my head. “We actually weren’t in a hurry to get physical. We each wanted something special in our lives, and we really found that in our emailing relationship. I guess you’d call it ‘psychological cheating’. We talked about everything - likes and dislikes, family, growing up, dreams and disappointments. At some point we exchanged phone numbers so that we could text instead of email.”

“I assume you talked about your spouses?” she asked, looking down again and taking another sip of wine.

“Yesssss,” I answered, slowly. This had to be done delicately. “I mean, we’d talk about our spouses when we caught each other up on our days, you know, like, ‘He did this, or we did this and she said that,’ that sort of thing.”

She was looking at me, saying nothing. The silence went on for a few seconds, so I sighed and continued. “Look, sure, we were both dissatisfied with our marriages, so of course we talked about why, and we talked about our spouses. But it wasn’t a bitch session. We didn’t just take turns trashing them. It was more like…a sympathetic ear. And it didn’t come up all the time.”

“Okay,” she said, relenting. “So, you were enjoying emailing so much that you didn’t even want to meet right away.”

“Right,” I said, “and aside from one head shot each, we didn’t even send each other pictures. Like I said, this type of contact was like a drug. I was getting to know her. She was getting to know me. We each had this little secret in our lives that made everything more exciting, and we could still talk ourselves into believing that we weren’t hurting our spouses - at least not yet.”

“Obviously you did get physical, though,” she said. It was a statement, not a question.

“Yes,” I replied, nodding slowly. “We never fooled ourselves into thinking that it wasn’t where we were going, but taking our time let us really…fall for each other, I guess…before we took the plunge.”