- submitted by H. Dorn on 10/06/2008
Is it Love, or Is It Just That I'm Married (And Not to Him)?
By Heidi Dorn
Are extra-marital crushes the purview of suburban women, many of whom have husbands who are more married to their jobs than their wives? Or, are crushes much more universal, befalling frustrated women everywhere?
I have spent close to 18 years married and faithful to my husband -- a wonderful man -- who, though married to me, often seems more married to his job and our incontinent dog Coco than to me. And despite the near bliss of my marriage, I don't remember a time during this generally lovely, though often irritating, union when I did not harbor an attraction for another man.
I've "loved" Dennis, the nerdy tech-guy at work; Clifton, the arrogant heir to a steel fortune whose aloofness and wealth made me mad with desire; Brent, the chubby IBM guy whose youthful vigor and endless pursuit of my know-how about inter-modal transportation in China made me adore him; Paul, the muscular motorcycle-riding bond trader and, of course, Brad, the sexy obstetrician whose kindness and Omar Sharif-ness made me tremble with lust, even during pregnancy and weighing in at a sexy 200+ lbs.
This is a mere sampling of the extra-marital passions that have tortured me over the years. Some have been so guilt-provoking that I have shared them with my husband, who kindly and with characteristic ego-strength typically responds with something along the lines of: "Wow. I'm sorry. That sounds so painful."
In my former career as a consultant, during which I spent years traveling to exotic locales, I came perilously close to breaking my vows. Like with Thorsten, a tall, muscular, swarthy German engineer who insisted on escorting me to my hotel room door one evening and blurting out "but, but, I love you!" just as I was turning to thank him and say goodbye. Despite the hideous physical side effects of attraction -- the inability to speak and lack of lip control, the trembling, the sweaty palms, the ache to experience something new -- my voice of reason prevailed.
This voice proved accurate the next day when Thorsten showed up at my door with a strange little gift that I still don't know what to make of. It was a ceramic object that fit in my hand, appeared as if it could function as either an incense burner or a bong, but looked like a brown, crooked pickle with fringe. I thanked Thorsten for the thoughtful gift and watched his gorgeous backside as he walked dejectedly away.
I knew then that my affection for flowers, expensive jewelry and exotic perfume would ultimately drive a wedge between Thorsten and me. I knew that staying faithful to my husband, who hates funding my materialism and expensive tastes but indulges me nonetheless, had been the right move. Not that the decision hinged on a hideous little gift, but it did add to my reasoning.
My most recent crush was on a guy I did not find remotely attractive -- until he started flirting with me. Prior to his confessions of love, he reminded me of the Geico caveman. His attentions, though, thrilled me and turned him from hairy, scary caveman to the most handsome, sexy and alluring fellow in the world.
Turned out he was bidding on a job where I had major influence on the hiring decision. He was admittedly the best candidate in a competitive bidding process and despite the turn of events, on a practical level, I do not regret hiring his firm. But once the contract was signed, the flirtation ended. No more groping, no more staring, not even a hello.
My initial instincts about Caveman had been correct. But when the chance of an extra-marital make-out session before I die had (falsely) presented itself, the likelihood of years of competing for affection at home with an incontinent dog had temporarily blinded me.
This begs the question: Do we love or even like the guys we have crushes on, or does marriage create a longing over time that even the happiest of unions cannot fulfill? I've researched this question extensively with women friends. Some have the good fortune and sense to brush it off as silly and not worth answering. But others admit to painful, embarrassing extra-marital feelings. With the latter group's help, I've come up with the following theories on why I remain faithful:
• Let's be honest, the Thorsten moments are extremely rare-there just isn't that much opportunity to stray.
• The cavemen outnumber the decent ones, and my husband is of the decent variety.
• The searing memory of a vacation to Hawaii long ago with another family whose youngest and extremely precocious daughter caught my dad naked and commented with a shrug: "Don't worry, Bob, you've seen one, you've seen ‘em all."
• And finally, the awareness that a gradual waning of passion is inevitable in all love affairs. Why screw up the kids, the finances and leave a perfectly decent guy if in fact the next guy's is no different from anyone else's?
So far, these theories have kept me true and away from swarthy Germans and skanky cave-dweller sales guys. I remain hopeful that in this, my fourth decade of life (and after the humiliating caveman incident), I have finally learned my lesson. I think there's a very good chance that my extra-marital passions will gradually subside as age, hard lessons learned and my fading looks keep me away from the rascals.
Heidi Dorn is a management consultant who lives in a West Coast suburb....read more rants
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