Third date

Four days, three nights, in another world. It seems so strange when D and I are together, because it is, in a sense, like nothing else in our lives. And yet it seems the most natural thing we can imagine.

Last week – well, I guess a little longer by now – I discovered I was going to have to take a business trip this week for just a couple of days. The business duties involved were not going to be very pleasant and I had only a few days’ notice, but I sent a note to D just in case she could get free. What did her schedule look like? She replied from work, a scant two hours later, “I'm completely dazed and mad with joy...really?” Yes, sweetheart, really.

Admittedly it wasn’t quite that simple. Not only had the trip been thrown together at the last minute, but then complications kept coming up. (Nothing is ever easy, it seems ... at least not in the world of infidelity.) For a while – after D had already made her own travel arrangements – it looked like my trip was going to be cancelled, which would have left her stuck in another state with nothing to do. Then the details changed again ... and yet again ... and the upshot was that I was going to make the trip but might not be needed in the office one of the days I would be there. And that was OK with me, actually ....

I flew Wednesday, arriving Wednesday night. D had very carefully arranged a flight on the same carrier that landed at the same airport within five minutes of mine: we met as I exited the plane. We kissed, of course, deeply and lovingly, but with none of the clawing desperation of our last couple of meetings – the surprise and anxiety that this couldn’t be real, that we had to cling to it with every ounce of strength, that it was some kind of dream. This time it was much more natural, just two lovers meeting again after an absence of a few weeks. Hello darling, I’m so glad to see you here. I missed you. I love you.

The next hour or more were remarkable only for their ordinariness. We had none of the missed cues or awkwardnesses of our last two dates; we knew what to expect from each other, and so we got the luggage and the rental car, and checked into the hotel, all without a hiccup. I called Wife to tell her I had arrived safely, while D unpacked and lit a scented candle and made the room unobtrusively beautiful.

Then, of course, we gave up any thoughts of dinner but undressed and went to bed. And what with the last-minute readjustments in my work schedule, we stayed there more or less until noon on Thursday, ... when we finally showered, dressed, and ordered a meal.

For all the time we spent making love, however, I’ve never mastered the knack of reporting on it in a narrative kind of way. So the story is going to be a little shallow in this area. But there were a few highlights:

• D has some of the most wonderful, sensual perfume. On our first date I got the scent of it all over one shirt and had to do laundry surreptitiously as soon as I got home. She brought the perfume this time, but was careful never to put it on until we were naked.
• Once again, D praised my skill as a lover effusively. I still can’t believe it. All I can assume is that, with a woman as electrifyingly responsive as D, it’s not hard for any reasonably attentive man to look skillful. (Hint: If you try something and she likes it, do it again; if she doesn’t, don’t.) But it was still sweet to hear.
• I also seem to have gotten over a lot of the erectile issues that afflicted me so persistently (if not quite always) during our first two dates. I was starting to be afraid that it was just middle age, and I was wondering how exactly to hide it from Wife if I had to get a prescription for Pfizer’s little blue pill. But for whatever reason, it was far less of a problem this time. So that is another kind of normality re-established.
• And we talked. And talked. As always, about everything ... whenever we weren’t fucking, at any rate. It’s true that the fucking put a serious stopper on the conversation. On the other hand, ... oh my God, was it worth it! Besides, we can talk any time.
• Have I mentioned lately how lucky I am that we love each other?

In the end, I never went into the office Thursday at all but spent it all with D. I went in Friday to take care of the business I had been sent for; but once that was over with, I couldn’t keep my mind on my work and left again by mid-afternoon. In all we spent three nights together, and we both flew home Saturday.

The only tense part was Friday night, when we went out to dinner. We were discussing movies, and D mentioned really enjoying “Green Card.” I said the movie made me very uncomfortable, for the same reason I can’t watch “Dangerous Liaisons.” In both movies, people play let’s-pretend with love, they manufacture artifices – lies – about love to manipulate others in the most callous ways ... and in both movies, Love takes a terrible vengeance and the people who perpetrate these lies are ensnared by them. (I admit, of course, that “Green Card” has a much softer and happier ending than “Dangerous Liaisons.” But the characters are still ensnared by the fictions they have created.)

I should take a moment to clarify that I am not speaking from the vantage point of moral castigation. If I wanted to preach or moralize, I would approve both movies without hesitation, because the characters’ fates are so plainly and justly and richly deserved. Both movies show very clearly that you shouldn’t play with matches. My point is simpler: it’s not that I am trying to proclaim some kind of high moral principle – it’s just that these movies make me too uncomfortable to sit still and watch them.

It’s very much the same with the Shakespearean tragedies. I am more than happy to watch Hamlet, or Julius Caesar, or the Scottish tragedy. But don’t ask me to sit through Othello or Romeo and Juliet. I have no problem seeing Prince Hamlet tortured by political and spiritual doubts about avenging himself against King Claudius; I cannot watch Othello tortured by the romantic and sexual doubts planted by Iago. In a way that cannot be measured by the body count at the end of Act 5, it is far too painful to me.

But I have wandered away from my story.

As I tried to explain this all to D, she fell quiet. Then she put down her knife and fork in the middle of dinner and stared straight ahead, saying nothing. It took me a few minutes to notice. When I did, I asked, “Are you angry about something?”

“No.”

“Well then are you upset?”

“Yes.”

“Can you tell me what about? Did I say something to hurt your feelings? What was it? I never meant to ... can you tell me what it was so that I can take it back? Please?”

Silence. You may have noticed that I get a little frantic around women who are upset – particularly if they are upset with me.

D continued to stare and think and say nothing. Her dinner just sat there, forgotten and congealing. When I finished eating she called for the check (I had bought the night before); then she paid and quickly left. I had to scamper quickly down the sidewalk to keep up with her.

“D, for heaven’s sake, can you please tell me what is going on?”

“Hosea, this is just untenable.”

“What is untenable?”

“Our relationship ... this ... everything we are doing.”

“What are you talking about? What is untenable about it?”

“Look, Hosea. I know you take commitments seriously. I always knew that. So do I. But I never dreamed that your view of romantic relationships is so idealistic, ... that your principles in this area are so high. Hosea, if those are your ideals then ultimately you’re not going to be able to sustain an affair with me. You just can’t. The affair will violate who you are at such a basic level that if you try to sustain it then one day it will just destroy you.”

“Wait a minute – is this all about my dumb remarks about those movies? Are you telling me if we never discussed those movies then you wouldn’t be upset with me right now? Can I just admit that my opinions are stupid and take them off the table, so we can go back to where we were half an hour ago?”

“Hosea, it’s not about the movies. It’s about you – who you are in the core of your soul – and whether this affair is good for you. And it looks to me right now like it’s not good for you ... like it is destructive for you ... and that means it is untenable. And for your own good maybe we need to end it.”

“What??? D, you can’t mean this. D, I love you. You know that. Don’t you? Yes, I’m married – so are you – and so yes, I still have some kind of a commitment to Wife. But at the same time I have a commitment to you – are you telling me you’re going to ignore this and just walk away from me?”

“Hosea, I know you love me. I know you are in love with me. But that’s beside the point. Just because you are in love with me doesn’t mean that being in love with me is good for you. You could fall in love with someone totally unsuitable, ... someone who couldn’t begin to match your character. You could fall in love with a ... a hunchback ...,” her voice cracked, “... and that wouldn’t prove anything. Honestly I don’t have a lot of confidence that you are any good at taking care of yourself, or you wouldn’t talk to me for hours at night without sleep until you are worn out with exhaustion and ragged with despair .... And Hosea, I ... love ... you! I love you more than anyone or anything, more than I can ever say. I could never forgive myself if our affair destroyed you, by eating away at your principles and your character until there is nothing left. And since I can’t trust you to look out for yourself and set limits where you need them, I have to do it for you. Do you think this makes me happy, saying these things? Can’t you see how desperate I am? But I can’t let myself ruin you! Hosea ... what if I’m Valmont? Don’t you remember that Mme de Tourvel dies??”

“Oh my God. D, stop. Stop and look at me. D, you’re not Valmont. Valmont lies. Valmont lies about love in order to manipulate Mme de Tourvel, among so many others. D, have you lied to me about your love? Even once?”

“No. I haven’t lied.”

“Then you’re not Valmont. You are better than that. Think of ... [here I mentioned a number of people in her life that she has put herself radically on the line in order to help]. Can you really say you might be Valmont when you think about them?”

“I don’t think that’s the point.”

“It’s exactly the point. And as for Mme de Tourvel, stop and think about what is universal in the story and what is specific to the time and place. She dies because she gets sick and there is not adequate medical care to look after her. That’s not going to happen to me. I’m not going to die. What is universal in the story is the heartbreak – and yes, I might suffer heartbreak. But D, we talked about that before and we both walked into this affair with our eyes open on that score.”

“But you aren’t seeing that ....”

“What is more, that risk of heartbreak is the very same issue with those movies, too. My problem with them has nothing to do with some kind of abstract principle. It’s just that they hurt too much for me to watch them. So if you are bothered by my feelings about these movies, you can’t chalk it up to some grand principle that might be destroyed if I compromise it with you ... because my feelings are all about fearing the vengeance of Love, fearing the pain of heartbreak. And we have already talked about that and accepted the risk. There is nothing more to say on that front.”

“Look, Hosea, I know you’re clever at this kind of argument; but you can’t really claim that there’s not an issue here. You simply can’t pretend that you are so smart that you can know this is not a real problem.”

“Yes I can.” God, I can be arrogant sometimes. “D, please. Don’t talk about leaving. Can we go back home now? I mean, back to the hotel?”

In the end we finally went back to the hotel, where we fucked more fiercely and intensely than at any other time this week. And the next morning we packed for the airport. As we waited for our flights, D smiled at me and re-opened the conversation a little obliquely.

“You know, Hosea, you could probably never get rid of me if you tried. Oh, I’m sure if you told me to go away forever, then somehow I would find a way to make myself do it. But short of that, there is nothing you could do to make me leave you permanently. You really don’t have to worry that. And if I really asked you for something out of line, you’d probably let me know it.”

I thought of all the times I have asked myself what I am doing here, and chuckled a bit. “Yes, I probably would. I’ve told myself before that as long as our affair is working for me, that’s fine; but if it stops working, who needs it? I never said that about my marriage, but I’ve already asked myself – times when we’ve been bickering and I’ve been depressed – why exactly I need two intense, demanding women in my life. Isn’t one enough? Don’t take that wrong ....”

D laughed. “No, I know exactly what you mean. What we have together gives us both a kind of freedom, actually. We don’t have to stick it out for society, or for the children, or anything like that. So we can make it just what we need it to be for us.”

About that times our planes were called. We kissed – again and again – and then boarded our respective planes to fly back to the real world.