Wednedsay - An Affair In My Mind
Nov. 8th, 2006 01:33 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ninanevermoreToday on my drive into work, I was thinking about my imaginary boyfriend, who I tell my husband visits me on Wednesday nights. Jeff doesn't believe me, but he plays along.
"What's he look like?" he asks.
"Don't worry, he's not as cute as you." This is a lie. If I'm going to give myself a make-believe lover, he's not going to be an ugly one. My Lover is gorgeous. I just don't want to hurt Jeff's feelings by telling him this.
"Well, that's good to hear."
"For you maybe, not for me. I'm thinking of replacing him. I think I can do better." This is also a lie. I've imagined my Lover as being a much tastier morsel than I could score in real life. He's not going anywhere.
Jeff's work schedule makes the Imaginary Lover necessary. Jeff works 2nd shift at the airport. He leaves for work in the middle of the day while I'm at work, and he comes home at midnight. He has Sundays and Mondays off. For the first part of Sunday, he's still asleep from being up all night. For most of Monday, I'm at work. The end result of this is that I know couples that live in separate houses who see each other more than we see each other.
Having a 2 year old in the house makes alone time even harder to come by. When I don't get any personal attention because we are too pressed for time, I bring up The Lover.
"That's all right. I'll get some on Wednesday when my boyfriend comes by. Otherwise, I'd be upset."
"Why Wednesdays?"
"Because his wife thinks he's at church. It's the only night of the week he can get out of the house."
The imaginary boyfriend is a Baptist. I got the idea for him one Wednesday night when I picked my son up his daycare at a Baptist church. On that night, the parking lot is full from all the people who show up for Bible study. It seemed like a good ruse for a lonely man in the middle of a moral identity crises. That and, as a Methodist, it just makes the whole imaginary affair all the more forbidden for me. It's akin to being a Dallas Cowboys fan who cheers when the Houston Texans score; you aren't being true to your own team.
I've made his imaginary wife a frigid shrew. If she were a nice person, I'd feel bad for her and couldn't carry on with her imaginary husband. She and my Lover have not had a real marriage in years, but he stays with her for the sake of his children. They have three of them, I think, but I'm not quite sure. We don't talk about our kids when we are together, as we only have an hour or so once a week.
"What's his name, anyway?"
"I can't tell you. We're committing adultery. I have to be discrete."
"I won't tell anyone."
I shake my head adamantly. The truth is, The Baptist Lover doesn't have a name. I've never given him one.
Last week, Jeff was home on Wednesday evening. He had a training class during the day, so we had an extra night together.
"My boyfriend is very annoyed by this," I told him, before we turned in for the night, "He actually had to go to Bible study for real this week."
"Tell him I'm sorry about that," Jeff said. I don't think he was, though.
"He'll get over it."
"He could have stopped by. I'd like to meet him."
"Are you kidding? How awkward would that be? No way."
"Oh, why not? I'd be civil."
I thought for a moment.
"Because if I have you around, I don't need him. It's not possible for you both to be in the same place at the same time."
"Hmmm," Jeff said, "I guess I'll have to take your word for that."
I snuggled up to him.
"You love me, right?" I asked, like I do all the time. I know the answer, but I still ask him.
"I love you more than anything else in the entire world," he said, like he always does, "You have no idea."
The Lover never tells me this. I suspect he still harbors some love for his frigid, imaginary wife. She is, afterall, the mother of his imaginary children.
"Good," I said, "Just checking. I love you, too."
Then I went to sleep next to my husband, which I almost never get to do.
* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ # ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *
"What's he look like?" he asks.
"Don't worry, he's not as cute as you." This is a lie. If I'm going to give myself a make-believe lover, he's not going to be an ugly one. My Lover is gorgeous. I just don't want to hurt Jeff's feelings by telling him this.
"Well, that's good to hear."
"For you maybe, not for me. I'm thinking of replacing him. I think I can do better." This is also a lie. I've imagined my Lover as being a much tastier morsel than I could score in real life. He's not going anywhere.
Jeff's work schedule makes the Imaginary Lover necessary. Jeff works 2nd shift at the airport. He leaves for work in the middle of the day while I'm at work, and he comes home at midnight. He has Sundays and Mondays off. For the first part of Sunday, he's still asleep from being up all night. For most of Monday, I'm at work. The end result of this is that I know couples that live in separate houses who see each other more than we see each other.
Having a 2 year old in the house makes alone time even harder to come by. When I don't get any personal attention because we are too pressed for time, I bring up The Lover.
"That's all right. I'll get some on Wednesday when my boyfriend comes by. Otherwise, I'd be upset."
"Why Wednesdays?"
"Because his wife thinks he's at church. It's the only night of the week he can get out of the house."
The imaginary boyfriend is a Baptist. I got the idea for him one Wednesday night when I picked my son up his daycare at a Baptist church. On that night, the parking lot is full from all the people who show up for Bible study. It seemed like a good ruse for a lonely man in the middle of a moral identity crises. That and, as a Methodist, it just makes the whole imaginary affair all the more forbidden for me. It's akin to being a Dallas Cowboys fan who cheers when the Houston Texans score; you aren't being true to your own team.
I've made his imaginary wife a frigid shrew. If she were a nice person, I'd feel bad for her and couldn't carry on with her imaginary husband. She and my Lover have not had a real marriage in years, but he stays with her for the sake of his children. They have three of them, I think, but I'm not quite sure. We don't talk about our kids when we are together, as we only have an hour or so once a week.
"What's his name, anyway?"
"I can't tell you. We're committing adultery. I have to be discrete."
"I won't tell anyone."
I shake my head adamantly. The truth is, The Baptist Lover doesn't have a name. I've never given him one.
Last week, Jeff was home on Wednesday evening. He had a training class during the day, so we had an extra night together.
"My boyfriend is very annoyed by this," I told him, before we turned in for the night, "He actually had to go to Bible study for real this week."
"Tell him I'm sorry about that," Jeff said. I don't think he was, though.
"He'll get over it."
"He could have stopped by. I'd like to meet him."
"Are you kidding? How awkward would that be? No way."
"Oh, why not? I'd be civil."
I thought for a moment.
"Because if I have you around, I don't need him. It's not possible for you both to be in the same place at the same time."
"Hmmm," Jeff said, "I guess I'll have to take your word for that."
I snuggled up to him.
"You love me, right?" I asked, like I do all the time. I know the answer, but I still ask him.
"I love you more than anything else in the entire world," he said, like he always does, "You have no idea."
The Lover never tells me this. I suspect he still harbors some love for his frigid, imaginary wife. She is, afterall, the mother of his imaginary children.
"Good," I said, "Just checking. I love you, too."
Then I went to sleep next to my husband, which I almost never get to do.
