Stood Up
He’d planned it for weeks - the friendly kiss, no “how do you do?” but as I’m sat there waiting in the reception it occurs to me that this over enthused man won’t meet my acquaintance – not tonight, not ever. As I battle the humiliation from knowing looks from the staff, the fire roaring behind me only adds to the colour in my cheeks. Still I sit there smiling. “Can I help you, Miss Weisz?” asks the manager.
“Not tonight, thank you.”
After a lengthy twenty minute wait, I pick up my bag and elegantly walk to the door. I never lose face – head always held high.
On the short walk home I question what was his intent? Did he get a kick from all the planning, just loved to hear my voice down the phone? I email him my sadness. He replies, “Adultery is such a complex thing.” So it must be if a man can have a mistress for three years yet gain a moral conscience two minutes before the best sex he’d have ever had. My conscience? I always leave it at home.
Adultery is, indeed, complex and maybe he got off on being clandestine - people do. But he’d made a commitment to you and he was discourteous and he assumed that he could treat with offhand disdain. I’d have turned up and explained, at least. And, probably, having gone that far, I’d have gone further. What with the roaring fire behind you and the red lipstick and all.