Two years ago, my wife was out of town and I was a temporary bachelor on a Saturday night. I was feeling kinda depressed that there was nothing all that great to do with my “freedom”.
I thought about calling a long time friend of mine who was recovering from an ugly divorce, and suggesting that he and I head into town, hang out at one of the more interesting night spots in Boston, and check out the women.
But there would be no real serious intent on my part – I’d just be his wing man, and maybe in that role I could help him get lucky. I’d do lots of talking and flirting, but any real action would be only for him, and totally off limits for me. After all, I’d been married for 19 years, and I really didn’t want to cheat on my wife.
But I could tell that I was in kind of a dangerous mood that night… Just feeling too restless and bored, and in the kind of mood that causes me to engage in dangerous risk taking. So I didn’t call my friend and tell him about my idea of being his wing man and helping him to score.
I decided it would be better for me to stay away from the club scene, because I just had a feeling that if I got things going with an attractive woman, that things could really go wrong, and my friend wouldn’t be the only one who scored that night. The temptation to take things too far might be too great for me to resist, and I might just blow it, and end up doing something that I’d live to regret for the rest of my life. I have never cheated on my wife and I didn’t want that to ever change, because I love her dearly, and it would just kill me if I did something stupid to really hurt her, and then end up losing her forever.
So realizing that I was in a dangerous mood, I decided to do something much less exciting, but far safer. I went to an Irish pub about a quarter mile from where I live. I figured that with a few pints of Bass Ale I’d be content, and my marriage would be safe.
This was a good plan. But Fate seems to love fucking around with people in situations like this. The place I went to is about the last place you’d ever go to pick up a woman. Not unless you don’t care if they are missing some teeth, and you have a grandma fetish. I may have some issues just like we all do, but that’s not one of them.
But Fate decided to have some fun with me that night. I went to my Irish pub and sat down on a bar stool, and the first thing I see, is a very attractive woman, about 32 or so… She had strawberry blonde hair, and extraordinally pretty green eyes… and of course, she is all alone. I see her, but basically put her out of my mind. Until she opens her mouth to complain to the bartender about the conditions in the ladies room. Her voice is unmistakably Southern, and to my ear, she has a Texas Twang… Now I’m curious. Why is this woman who is obviously from the deep South, and a long way from home… up here in Yankee Land, in an Irish Pub?
I watch her… without being obvious so she doesn’t notice. I really am curious to know what she is all about. The wide screen TV has a sports report about the Dallas Cowboys… I notice that she seems to hang on every word, as she intensely watches the story.
‘She has to be from the Dallas/Fort Worth area…’ I think to myself. ‘She’s homesick!’
At this point, I couldn’t resist any longer, and I moved towards her, with a gentle and sympathetic look in my eyes… and then I ask her: “Excuse me, but are you from the Dallas Fort Worth area?”
She looks at me with a combination of surprise and wariness… and answers, “You could tell that from my accent, right?” I answer, “Well, it’s true that your accent got my attention, but a woman who so intently watches a sports report about the Dallas Cowboys, but with a slight look of sadness in her eyes… may well be from that area.
She looked shocked – but only for a brief instant. She instantly recovers her cool and giving me a sarcastic smile, she replies, “Well I guess that you got me all figured out then.” I answer, “No, I seriously doubt that. All I know about you, is that you are from Dallas/Fort Worth. The rest is a total mystery…”
She seemed to like this answer, smiled warmly at me, and moved her bar stool just a little closer.
I gave her a good natured smile, and asked her, “So what’s a nice Southern girl like you, doing up here in Yankee land?” This seemed to draw her out, and she told me all about how she’d been living up here for the last four years, working as a commercial real estate agent. She told me that although she loved Boston in ways, she could never feel at home here, cause people were just so cold and unfriendly, compared to the way they are back home.
I told her about my own mother, who came here with my dad from Southern Ohio, and how she had to struggle with the same thing. The truth is, that to anyone from the South, or the Mid West, people in New England in general and Bostonians in particular will seem very reserved, cold, and unfriendly. It’s just the way it is up here. Until they get to know a person better, most New Englanders won’t go out of their way to be friendly and engaging with total strangers.
She seemed increasingly relaxed with me, and started to tell me a lot about her personal life, in very intimate detail. She excused herself to go to the ladies room, and I couldn’t help but notice what a fine figure she had, in addition to the gentle beauty of her face. There was no denying that I found her very attractive.
When she came back, she smiled warmly at me, and asked me what I was drinking. She looked intoxicatingly beautiful, and offered to buy me whatever I was drinking. I smiled at her, and said it was my place to buy us drinks. She laughed and exclaimed “Well I guess that Chivalry isn’t dead after all!”
I smiled back at her and replied “There are still some of us who try to keep the tradition alive.” She liked my answer and her strikingly pretty green eyes sparkled as she moved even closer to me, almost to the point that we were now sharing the same bar stool, and she accepted my offer to buy our drinks. So we drank together… and as the alcohol heightened a mutual glow already present in both of us, she suggested that we move away from the bar and share a booth, where we could be more private.
I immediately saw the red flag warning waving right in my face, and I knew that I was now in grave danger – but I chose to ignore the warning and I accepted her offer. So we moved to a booth where we could be more private. We talked together… laughed together, and I ordered us more drinks. As the alcohol continued to cast it’s seductive spell on both of us, we began to share many secrets, and soon the intimate content of our conversation, combined with our mutually powerful attraction for each other, became a more intimately physical manifestation.
Soon we were sharing the same side of the booth, and for an instant, instead of red warning flags waving in my face, there were now fire alarms going off very loudly in my head, and an inner voice yelling ‘Just get up and LEAVE!!!’ But again, I chose to ignore all the warnings.
Now as we sat together on the same side of the booth, our bodies all but merged, as we became as physically close as possible, without embracing and then kissing. But that last barrier was on the verge of falling, as we leaned towards each other, now close enough to kiss… with her eyes deeply probing mine and imploring me to kiss her. But I didn’t… not here in such a public place, on the very edge of my own neighborhood, and within walking distance of my own home.
There was only one thing left to do, at this point… It was obvious that she wanted to spend the night together with me, and I was deeply flattered that this beautiful and vivacious woman, who was 20 years younger than me, wanted me in that way. I wasn’t just flattered, but thrilled! And I wanted her so very badly!
But at the point of no return, I backed off… I just couldn’t do it. She was mine for the taking, but I couldn’t go through with it. I knew that I had come to the very brink, and I was on the edge of disaster, about to fall into the abyss. I was on the verge of making a terrible mistake that I knew once I committed to, could never be unmade, and what was whole and so deeply precious to me, would be forever broken.
So I gently explained to her that the gold wedding ring on my left ring finger was very real, and however badly I wanted her right now, I now knew that I just couldn’t violate all that the ring represented, and betray my wife.
I was concerned about how she would take this, since I knew I had been guilty of going with her every step of the way, to the place we both were now. I expected to be angrily resented for leading her on, and then backing off at the very last minute. But there was no anger from her. Instead, she looked at me sadly, and said, “I saw the ring; I just thought you must be separated. Cause you just seem like too sweet of a guy to be out fooling around, with a wife at home.”
I confirmed that yes, I do have a wife at home, and I love her very dearly. But my desire for her was so strong that it had pushed me to the very brink of forgetting my marriage, and spending with her what I knew would be an intense night of passion for both of us.
She smiled back at me; a smile of warmth but also disappointment, and then a mischievous sparkle was back in her eyes, as she said, “Well I didn’t get ya this time, but I sure as hell came damn close, so if ya ever change your mind, well maybe there will be another time for us.”
I smiled back and replied, “Maybe, but more likely never.” Her smile faded, but her eyes still had some fire as she answered “Don’t be so certain, cause if there’s one thing I know for certain, it’s that nothing in life is certain.” Her point was one that I would never argue with.
She gave me her business card before we parted, and I went home. Later, I noticed that on the back of the card was her home address. I felt a mild wave of shock go through me, as I realized that we lived only 6 miles away from each other. I burned her business card, and in the two years since that night, we have never seen or spoken to each other again.