‘Romantic love will be the last delusion of the old order’- ‘Anna Karenina- Leo Tolstoy’
Love story this… Love story that…
Blah. Blah. Blah.
Romeo and Juliet,
Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy (God bless Jane Austen)
This, that, that.
Almost everyone falls in good love,
Clean love at some point.
It’s honest; it’s faithful and sometimes, it’s pure.
It is butterflies and it’s rainbows and it makes you want more,
To be in your lover’s embrace for as long as forever; it could never be a bore.
But trust me when I tell
Of one that seems like a spell.
Eros, they call it.
Or, haven’t you heard about it?
Take away your conscience, your sense of guilt.
Take away all propriety, and some decency too;
Let go of all your inhibitions; lose your dignity
And walk with me while share this tale of the joys of infidelity.
Ever met a man with the eyes? He never said much. He only spoke a few words, looked at me quietly and left my witty soul speechless.
You are strong, firm, so principled but when he whispered in my ears saying that he was going to take me, I became scared. My heart raced because I knew he just might.
The mere whiff of his perfume makes my stomach cringe, twist up into many chords of notes that could never be sung.
He has me so enthralled in his world. How I seek to hold him dearly.
As I sit here and write out these words, every part of me awaits his arrival. Yes, we are to meet tonight.
But hush, my husband mustn’t know. My husband must never know of what I have begun to celebrate behind him.
He moves me. He makes me feel.
Love? It isn’t love that moves us. It is desire. Love, I have now come to realize, is for the weak; for those who crave safety.There is no safe haven in what we have begun.
Ever met a man that knows you better than you thought you knew yourself? He’s always five steps ahead of you? Ever met a man who breaks you? When he passes by me, it is electric.
I wish I could write a song, make a movie of how he makes the hairs on my neck stand. Can you see me spin around like we were dancing? Holding myself like it was he with me? Moving in the presence of all, aware of the tension that lies between us and blessed with the knowledge that no one else knows. No one knows our secret. All they ever see is a man and his dear friend’s wife have a jolly time together, because we hide it so well.
The limited meetings. The idea of being caught. The sneaking around. The stolen glances. The secret body language that only we can interpret leaves us longing for more. Exhilarating.
I shan’t tell of our actions. Of how our skin touch, lips taste or…No. They are ours. Our private memories.
He asked me if I wanted him to go; to leave, so I wouldn’t feel so troubled, guilty of this sinful adventure we had begun? IS HE MAD?
Are we? How can I ever let him go? Let him stop? I haven’t felt this way in years. Why would I want to stop now?
He must be with me till this feeling becomes colorless. Until then, he is bound to me even if we are bound to others.
I hear his footsteps on the stairs. He is climbing up to me. He knows I await him. We shall be together for hours while our partners are at rest and dream away.
The door handle is moving.
Come quickly and let us escape this torturous, boring life of bondage called marriage!
Come and hold me, my love!
He is in the room. I must leave now, diary and behold my…my husband?