Neither Here Nor There

February 28, 2011
AFFAIRS.com: THE HOW TO GUIDE.

Managing Your Expectations

Finding the Perfect Alibi

How to End an Affair

The Pros and Cons of Having an Affair

Dealing with Guilt

Click here to find an affair partner in Woollahra!

??

1 New Unread Msg.
Hi sweetie. Tried calling from the airport.
Coming home early. Already made
reservations for us. See you at 8.
Love, M

1 New Unread Msg.
Can’t see you tonight.
Mark home early. Sorry.
Thinking of you!
Kisses from Liv

1 New Unread Msg.
Liv, what the f***?
Been two weeks and no calls.
Want to see you.
Luc.

??

Olivia arrived at the Best Western on the M2 Freeway determined to end things. Driving there in the car her husband had just bought her as an anniversary gift only emphasised how important it was to return to fidelity.
As tedious as it might be, it was better than uncertainty.
She tried to tell herself she could always find another man. She didn’t consider Luc to be anything special – although she wondered if this was just her rationalisation for ending things.
It was shameful, to say the least. A successful woman with an impossibly loving husband (on an impossibly high salary), a penthouse in Darling Point that was the envy of many a Desperate Housewife and a sister who was about to marry a Chinese prince. Yet, here she was, conducting a horrible affair with a sleazy French painter who kept cigarettes behind his ears and married women underneath his sheets.
As she pulled into the parking lot, she wondered if she really was Luc’s only lover. How could she have been stupid enough to trust him? She was an intelligent woman! She was already furious by the time she’d put the car into park. It didn’t help that Ticket to Ride started playing from her handbag, heralding the dreaded call from none other than her husband.
“Hi sweetie!”
“Hi angel. Where are you? Sounds noisy?”
“I’m…just on Park Street. It is noisy.”
“Oh. I’m just in my building. Can I come pop into your work later?”
S***.
“Uh…well, sweetie, the thing is we’re just very busy at the moment. I’m drafting up this huge proposal because do you remember I was telling you about that giant takeover I’m heading up? Well anyway it wasn’t meant to be finished by the end of next week at least but it turns out one of the CFOs had to leave for the US and I’ve now got to get it done as quickly as possible! So…that’s very sweet of you but I’ll see you tonight.”
Olivia watched her integrity disappear over the telephone line.
“Alright. Where should I make reservations? Or are you going to cook?”
That joke again – it was adorable.
Olivia laughed genuinely. “No, you should definitely make reservations. I feel like Indian – I heard about a gorgeous place in the Cross. I’ll take care of it.”
“Thanks angel. See you later.”
She pulled out of the Best Western and veered back onto the M2. Luc could wait. So could she.

??

1 New Unread Msg.
Liv. What happened to you?
Waited at the B.W. for an hour.
I’ll wait for you next Tuesday.
I WANT to see you.

1 New Unread Msg.
Liv. At Bangkok Airport.
Exhausted. Let’s just eat in tonight.
Strange charges on our Amex card.
Did you make them?
Otherwise should cancel card.
From M.

??

Olivia felt like a disgusting cliché. She was alone on a Wednesday night, sitting on the couch watching Gossip Girl and eating chocolate ice cream out of the tub.
And she was crying.
She checked her phone again. There it was: from M. Never, ever had she gotten a text from her husband that ended with ‘from’. It was like signing ‘not love’.
Suddenly, in a moment that could only be described as terrifying, the full weight of her actions hit her. As a lawyer who should have been able to argue both sides of any case, she could justify only one: staying with the man who actually loved her.
Charlie Sheen was right: it was a lonely existence.
Chocolate ice cream and second-rate TV was Olivia’s way of mourning the great tragedy that had befallen her.
Mark! She implored herself. She loved him absolutely and truly. How, then, was it possible to love somebody else at the some time? Then again, did she even love Luc? And if she didn’t love him, what was she doing with him?
So, she went to the computer and clicked on it.

How to End an Affair


??

To: alicestone@cubepublishing.com.au
From: oliviachapman@wallacelawfirm.com.au

ALICE!!!!!!!!!!
Sis, I miss you! Honestly you have no idea what has been going on here. My life is literally crazy. I am in SUCH a mess and I need your help to get out of it.
I guess you can take it straight out: I’m having an affair. Huh! Doesn’t sound like me at all, I know, and honestly I don’t recognise me anymore.
Back me on this one: I love, love, love Mark! And Luc (man with whom I am conducting my awful AWFUL affair) is just another…man. So why do I like him? Why am I risking the things that mean so much to me for some guy? I can’t even tell you how alone I feel. Think you can ditch that gorgeous (royal) fiancée of yours and come help your big sis?
Anyway, the point is, I’m alone. I’m neither here nor there. I can’t be with Mark properly while Luc’s in my life, and spending time with Luc doesn’t make me feel any more loved…or even provide some kind of valuable companionship. So, on the one hand I’ve got a husband whose love for me is fading, and a twenty-something who couldn’t care less if I was here today and gone tomorrow. (Though some of his texts suggest otherwise!!!!!).
Ally, helpppppp meeeeee. I don’t think a married woman like me is meant to feel lonely – and not just lonely: unloved, abandoned, shamed and uncertain.
Thus, I have presented to you my predicament.

Bisous, Livvy. XOXOXOXOXOX

P.S. Re the wedding, are the chopsticks in hair entirely necessary?

??

“Hi, this is Mark Chapman. Is this Luc Benoit?”
“Yes, yes it is. How can I help you?”
“Well, my wife wants to repaint our living room, and I found your number in the Yellow Pages. I’m just ringing to see if I can book you in for the job.”
“Absolutely, Sir. In fact, I can come tomorrow.”
“Excellent! See you then. Oh, and I’ll also get you to meet my wife, just so she can explain exactly what it is she wants.”
“Parfait. Goodbye, Mr Chapman.”





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