My life goes FUBAR

Long time no post.  Sorry about that.

Where did I leave off last time?  Right, I was trying to get (re)laid by a co-worker.  I tried once more after that without success, so I backed off.  For whatever reason, it's not happening and that's cool.  I like this guy so I'd like to remain friends with him.  I'm working on getting him out for a drink so we can catch up and relax and just hang out.  If something happens, so be it, but that's not my angle for going out with him.  He's a genuinely nice guy and I'd like to keep him in my life however I can.

However, there's still drama.

I'll admit it.  I'm a flirt, and even though I'm way too old for a phrase like this, I'm a bit boy-crazy.  I like to like people.  I loved being in love, and know I will always love my ex.  Without a doubt, he is the best thing that ever happened to me and I will never completely recover from losing him.  However, I admit I am lonely and feeling attraction for other people helps me through the times when I miss him the most.

Enter co-worker number two, also a nice guy.  We've been pretty friendly for several months now, and I've felt things progressing.  We talked about it, and acknowledged the attraction and flirting.  (I've discovered that since my last relationship, I prefer putting my cards on the table and knowing where things stand.  That way, if I'm wrong and it's not mutual, I can accept it and move on before it becomes embarrassing.)

About two weeks ago, we were talking a bit at the office and I mentioned something about working a little late that night.  To my surprise, he called me later in the evening while I was still at work.  We talked and joked for a bit, and he asked if I was doing anything later.  I wasn't, so we agreed to get together.  I asked if he wanted me to come out to where he is (we both live in different suburbs of the city we work in) and he said he was already out so he'd come my way.  We said goodbye, I ran home and changed and we got together for a drink. 

A couple hours later, I brought him home.  (Let me say I honestly don't like blogging it like that.  I know I run the risk of protesting too much, but I am conscious that how cavalierly I seem to bring people home makes me look like a slut, and I'm honestly not.  I can name every person I've slept with, and it's really not that many.  But back to the story.)

So I brought him home.  We kissed, we fooled around, there was sex.  Hot, sweaty, great sex.  And he even stayed around afterwards to talk a bit.

We talked about small stuff, and then of course we talked about a little heavier stuff.  He asked a few personal questions like why was he there with me at that moment.  I answered his questions best I could, and then asked what his story was.  He was evasive, which immediately gave me a sick feeling.

He insisted I knew what his story was.  I told him I didn't, and he told me I knew but was blocking it out.  After playing this shit for a few minutes, I told him that I didn't want a fucking riddle, I wanted a straightforward answer.  Finally, he reminded me.  Seems I met his wife three months ago.

Yup, wife.  He's married.  M.A.R.R.I.E.D.

I told the asshole to get the fuck out of my house, and then stripped my bed and took a shower.  I know I'm not to blame, because I truly didn't know.  I work in a very public-oriented job and I meet a LOT of people.  His wife is one of literally thousands of people I've met in the year I've worked for this company, and it was for all of 15 seconds.  I really didn't remember, because if I'd known he was married I wouldn't have even flirted with him.  I've been cheated on and I absolutely refuse to have any part in making a woman worry about what her man is doing.  It's a line I just won't cross.  Still, it made me feel disgustingly dirty to know what I'd done, even if I didn't know I was doing it at the time.

So here's what I'd say to the asshole if the sight of him didn't make me nauseous: 

You wants to cheat on your wife?  Fine, that's your business.  I think it's slimy and disgusting, but that's your right to be slimy and disgusting.  If that's how you want to live your life, that's up to you, but don't you dare make me part of this, and don't you fucking dare try to tell me that I knew.  Don't you try and tell me "it just happened".  It's been building up to this for awhile and you know it.  Both before and after sex, you told me you'd like to do this again.  You were intending to start an affair.  While I didn't come right out earlier in the evening and directly ask if you were single, I asked where your son was.  I asked why you had multiple cars.  I asked about coming out to your place.  If you truly believed I knew you were married, you would have said your kid was with your wife.  You would have mentioned one of the cars belonging to your wife.  You would have told me I couldn't come to your place because YOUR WIFE WAS HOME SLEEPING!  You gave me evasive answers because you realized I didn't remember her and you took advantage of that.

Don't you dare come to me at work and ask if we're still friends.  You can't truly be that stupid, can you?  Calling you disgusting and yelling at you to get the fuck out of my house didn't give you a clue?

Oh, and it was a real classy move to bring your wife and baby daughter by work yesterday.  You're lucky I didn't walk up to her and tell her what a sleazy shitbag you are.  After all, I can describe exactly how you fuck.  I know your "move".  You have one hell of a set of balls waving this all in front of my face and trying to place the blame on me because "I knew about it".   You're a real fucking piece of work, you know that?

That's ok.  Whether it be God, Karma, or something else, this will come back to get you one day.  It'll come back to me too, and I accept that, but at least I acknowledge what I did and feel remorse for the innocent people that stand to be hurt if they find out what we did.  You don't feel anything except interested in taking the responsibility off yourself........