Life’s Lectures - Part Three

I must have paced a steady 10k in that Premier Inn box overlooking the city. It had been three hours. My fantasy of being re-born was more-or-less becoming a long and painful labour. Aidan: “couldn’t get away”, and was being “kept an eye on” by his wife’s family in pursuit of his affair(s) – I wonder why. I became more and more anxious, guilty, but forced myself to relax as I didn’t want to be a nervous wreck if, and when he decided to show up. I consciously reminded myself that Jon hadn’t text me either, which was the usual really. He was probably throwing another house party everyone (including my hairdresser!?) was invited to – bar me – in his own indulgence of his friends little sister (again). Meh, thought dismissed; we were both ridiculous.

When Aidan arrived – at somewhat nightfall, hours post the brunch-and-boudoir session I’d envisaged – I was scantily clad in white silk lingerie and trembling with lust/fear/hormones, but mostly hunger as I was terrified of ordering room service incase one of the thirty year old Polish maids just so happened to recognize me (from what, school!?). He iterated revision C of why he was late, but I no longer cared.

Holy fuck, his eyes, they were sooo blue, his skin weather beaten, and his dark hair and stubble longer, more relaxed than I had seen before. It had been two months since the car (omfg wet patch) incident and I craved to have sex with him. But, I acted nonchalant (I believe), knowing full well I had as much sexual experience as a cat with a cucumber.

And sometimes, when you build a fantasy based on rom-com Drew Barrymore in Never Been Kissed, combined with soft-core porn (for research purposes, of course), you get a little let down with the reality. The sex didn’t last long, and he didn’t stay either. Aidan was a beautiful man, but carried no grace as he threw £70 (his split of the room), on the bedside table before his departure, like I was a prostitute, not even worthy of “the other woman” title, or a glass of wine for that matter.

In spite of that night, Aidan and I grew the foundation of what has come to be known as the “friends with benefits” situation; with the minor implication of his sacking and/or divorce if anyone knew what we got up to after 4pm. Sure, he had lack of tact on several occasions, but Aidan was deep at his core, troubled with his marriage, and seemed to find emotionally confiding in me just as rewarding as being inside me over a cymbal crashing drum kit in session room four, (the former, being ironically the harder of the two for most women, scorned by infidelity, to digest). I, a younger – a). Reckless; b). Impulsive; c). Both – woman at that time understood that, first hand (no pun intended). But, I knew there was no relationship at the end of the road with Aidan, and the fact I didn’t expect more made it a ‘relaxed’ exploration of my sexuality, a release for him (pun intended), and justifiably the rationale to not hurt anyone for no real accomplishment, or coming together, (no comment).

As time passed our lives naturally moved in different directions; quite literally as I had moved to north-east England for Uni after Jon broke up with me (by text). FYI, no clue of Aidan, and fortunately favouring his own pursuit of his ex who he impregnated some months later #truelovewaits #trapped. It did hurt as he was my first proper boyfriend, but I let it go as my behaviour hadn’t been kind or rewardable either.

I needed the clean break, and Aidan had his commitments in Scotland. I finished Uni less than a year later and the buzz of Facebook lead me into a revised ‘friendship’ with Aidan. We casually caught-up time to time- until I learned he had left his wife and was playing house with a younger woman!?

Wait-a-fucking-minute.

I hadn’t considered the possibly of this scenario. It was never an option with us. Why wasn’t it an option with us? I thought he would be caught in the spiders web that formed his marriage, well, forever! In fear of the black widow. So, I might have not been envisaging a life together as a blushing gushing 19 year old (NO THANKS to telling my parents how that whole situation came about), but as I approached 23 I started to wonder why I had not been considered for the running. Timing? Geography? After all those sessions I put in? It clearly wasn’t age related given the new beau.

I never did ask these questions. I had promised myself after Jon that I would never deceive and cheat someone again, and that included all parties: meaning I would not pursue a man with a girlfriend of any kind, even if I was single. I realized our online conversations were no longer appropriate, or worth my while. The last thing I needed was social media PDAs, and more so the anxiety I suffered with Jon where I couldn’t turn on a computer for fear of finding detrimental material. I let Aidan go, emotionally.