When B. separated from his wife in August 2009 he quickly found and furnished a rental house to live in with two of their four kids who had not yet flown the coop. I lent him all sorts of household items including a set of white Cuisinart plates and serving pieces. He was especially grateful for these.
One night I was preparing dinner for us, to be served on those Cuisinart plates, when I opened one of his cupboards and was stunned to find a vase half-full of softly-rounded river pebbles. I instantly recognized this as the vase that once held a bouquet of flowers I’d recently given to him. I’d added the small pebbles to hold the stems aloft.
“I am a saver of things,” he admitted, smiling, right then and there. I was tickled. And so in love.
When B., years later, permanently moved to his well-furnished southwest Michigan cabin he returned the borrowed items to me. Back came the boxes of Cuisinart dinnerware which I again stashed in my basement and promptly forgot about.
My husband and I recently moved to a new house. In the packing and moving process — the definition of Hell, for sure — I unearthed the dinnerware and decided to bring it with us to our new digs. I opened each box of Cuisinart plates to ensure they were tightly packed, and in one found this:
We’ve long been estranged, B. and me, but I’m positive he intentionally put them in this box of plates to be found by me someday in the future. They made me smile as broadly as I did when I first saw them clustered with the others he’d saved in his cupboard years earlier. I’m convinced B. was sending me a message.
He was saying, I remember you.
He was saying, I will always have feelings for you.
The plates survived the move to our new home, no cracks, no breaks. The pebbles now have a permanent spot on my desk. In the intervening years our relationship cracked and broke, but the pebbles endured.
I got the message, B. Thank you.
A former mistress (26 years, on-and-off) describes the good, the bad, and the ugly of her long-term affair. Conclusion: Affairs aren't necessarily destructive if kept in the correct perspective. Our experience enhanced BOTH our marriages.
That is, until his marriage ended and we began to love each other. When the affair morphed into a relationship, well, that's when it stopped being fun for me. We have now irrevocably split.
Lately I've been writing about the man who took his place in the "off" years of that 26-year-long affair. He was a dynamic sexual partner but we, too, now have irrevocably split.
These are our stories.