When my son was born, of course, there were a few months when I didn’t make the effort to keep up the affair and lost touch with her entirely. These were dark days of stress and unhappiness. Eventually, I started sneaking her into the house and became less frantic. Looking back, it's a wonder I never got caught—while always discreet, my affair still left signs for those who knew where to look: changes in my habits, smiling even when things were falling apart around me or remaining calm in the face of normally aggravating behavior by my family.
How could I not be affected? Whenever she comes around, things just seem to go better. I’m less likely to say something stupid while in her company. I’m always at my best with her at my side. Life is much less stressful when she visits me. Why, then, is she not the one I’m with before all else? Because I could never commit to a long-term relationship—my thing with her has always been more an affair of convenience than a true love.
Now that I’ve got a brand new baby in the home, I’m afraid my fleeting romance is in even more jeopardy than ever. Between the lack of sleep and constant care for my children, I haven’t made much room for this other relationship. Lately though, I’ve been missing her calming presence. I suppose I’m writing this confession hoping that my wife will see how much I need this relationship and allow my affair to become a more permanent part of our lives. Sounds a little radical but it could happen. I know that it would be great around the kids and might even help smooth out some of the rough edges of my marriage.
I know my wife has always suspected I’ve had this secret affair but it’s only right and fair that I come clean about my desire to see and have more than passing encounters with the one called…