Then I met someone at the restaurant where I was waiting tables and wearing my best happy-go-lucky façade. This customer was just a man like any other man who ordered spinach salad with candied walnuts. I never imagined deep feelings would develop during the next several months of sliding his check card through the money machine and sharing a glass of wine after my shift.
I ended up serving more than braised ribs and a glass of merlot to this man. He made me feel safe, and I could show him my true self, even the parts that I thought were ugly and unlovable. He was spiritual, open and empathic. (Are you having an emotional affair?)
Delivering a medium-rare steak and being greeted with a warm knowing smile melted my heart. My once numbed feelings began to resurface. Sharing a glass of wine with someone who understood me and knew how to salsa was all I thought I wanted. There he was, and there my husband was snoozing on the couch at home with my 2 year-old son.
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I began to want more from this man. I was torn between my family and my feelings for him. I would anxiously wait for him to come and see me at work so we could connect. I would go home after midnight, after having a glass of wine with him, and pine away the hours until our next encounter.
My husband began to wonder why I was so distant. Then he began to wonder why I would cry constantly for a week straight. I didn't have the guts to tell him what I was really feeling.
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I was a coward. I was used to hiding my feelings behind a glass of wine. I was afraid of what I felt, and of hurting his feelings. Continue reading.