Against my better judgment, I accepted your Facebook friend request.
“He’s hot,” I thought. “He has an exciting job.”
We chatted for a few minutes.
“Why are we chatting?” I asked. “It’s wrong,” I said.
“We are both married.”
“I’m not happily married”, you replied.
“And you are beautiful and funny and witty and intelligent. I am attracted to you.”
I was attracted to you too.
We texted for hours.
You called me sweetheart.
I started imagining things. A life with you.
You who live a million miles away.
You who didn’t sit by my side when I tried to take my life.
You, a player. A predator. A stranger.
I started to feel something for you. I thought about you all night.
We spoke the next day, again. For hours.
I told you things.
Things I should never have said.
You did the same.
“You know I have to block you now”, I said.
“This is way too dangerous.”
“Don’t”, you said. “We can be friends. We can establish ground rules.”
I deleted the conversation.
The thing is, along the way, I gave you a piece of my heart.
The thing is, it doesn’t belong to you – that piece –
It belongs to my husband, my forever love, who sat with me, who stayed with me even as I trespassed, as I disrespected my scared bond with him. I am blessed that he puts up with crap, that he stays with me still. I don’t deserve him.
I hope I am brave enough to block you. For ever.