Nothing fires me up more, on a dull January morning, than a bit of controversy, in light of this, I'm thrilled to present you with a post written by one of my fabulous twitter followers (who wishes to remain anon. despite her marvellous writing skills) on the subject of illicit affairs of the heart. She's bold, she's bright and she's here to tell you all about it, enjoy ...
So - I've got this friend. A friend of the male persuasion. We've known each other for years - in fact, we've been intimately acquainted for years. And then he found a marvellous girlfriend. Who I really liked too. And who I took under my wing as she was rather a broken bird when he met her. We've laughed together, cried together, drunk together and, since she's been with the aforementioned male friend, also …. ahem…. played together. Which was all very lovely and modern and 2012. Until dear readers I broke a golden rule.
The male of the species is a strange conundrum of lust and love, of wanting to sow his wild oats and find a woman who can be a saint in the kitchen, bedroom and darn his socks. He would like it all - and he'd like it now. And he doesn't care who knows it. The one I am talking about despairs of his new wife going out in tops that show her cleavage, of men chatting to her in bars, even of her being out much past 10.30pm. But while she's not looking - it's nooki all the way with me. On the one hand he is the very epitome of an old fashioned 'gent'. "Where's me tea?" he'd bellow when he got back from 12 hours of ploughing fields. "Babysit? Our child?" he'd moan when she wanted half an hour to relax in the bath. "You expect me to change a nappy?" he'd expound after she'd been up all night feeding and calming the baby.
So for R&R purposes he took to popping round my house. For a chat, a cup of tea, a little whinge about how difficult being a new dad was. And also to remember how fun it was being a single man - with no cares in the world. And I'd reciprocate, and cuddle and generally indulge in filth that would make even the most avid kink.com purveyor wince. And so it went on - for several years. It was wrong, I didn't feel good about it, but it was also quite fun. Because in my eyes, he was mine all along. Dang - he'd been mine since way before they met. And it was only by virtue of the fact that I was not ready to settle down and have children that we didn't end up together. We probably should have by all accounts.
Now to Christmas Eve. That cherished day of the year when families get together, put their children to bed with tales of sugar-plums and fat, jolly, bearded fellows. The male friend and his wife were tucked up in bed, I was tucked up in (a separate) bed when all of a sudden there arose this thought in his mind. Ooooh - a little bit of festive hanky panky. Oooh - but the wife's fast asleep (poor lass had been cleaning, cooking, caring and working all day) so he decided that 3am on Christmas Day was the perfect time to make a visit to my door. But the thing was, I was fast asleep. And four phone calls and a knock just irritated rather than titillated. And in fact scared me witless.
So the next day, fuelled by more than my fair share of plum pudding and damson vodka, I decided that it would be a great idea to tell the wife that I really didn't appreciate her husband becoming a midnight stalker. And could she please tell him not to randomly decide to come to my house at that time in the morning. Because this was occasion number four of him doing this (I never answered on any of the occasions). She berated him, she tutted, she and I spoke and said it couldn't be a sexual urge - he was just bored and fancied wandering round a county town in the South West at that time of night because he liked the fresh air and looking at the stars. He in turn decided this was the moment to tell her that actually he had come to my house because we've been shagging like rabbits for years and he felt like getting some.
Clang. Clang of the largest variety ever invented by someone that invents clangs. Suddenly I am enemy number 1. And there is no excuse. And yes he might be a bit of a plonker, treat her like dirt and go wandering in the night BUT I SLEPT WITH HIM WHILE THEY WERE MARRIED.
I have no excuse for what I've done, or even what has happened since (much gnashing of teeth by her, blocking on Facebook - love modern relationships - and even the suggestion that my god-mother rights should be immediately relegated to 'this woman is never darkening our door again' position). And he has gone to ground. No message to me except a cryptic New Year's Day text "I hope you like the fallout which today will bring" (aww - sweet….)
The moral of the story dear friends is a) don't sleep with your best girlfriend's husband even if you have been doing it for years and b) don't tell her.
Not sure there's much of a lesson here except that having a threesome with your best male friend, his wife and yourself is ok and having a twosome with your best male friend and yourself is not. New Year's Resolution. Don't crap on your own doorstep.