I am apparently having an affair with a married man.
At least, that's what the latest gossip around the camp fire is.
He has adamantly informed me that the split from his wife is amicable, and very real indeed.
I didn't realise just how 'amicable' it continues to be.
Based on a few key pieces of information I can now say that I don't think there is a split happening at all, except for that familiar splicing feeling in my heart that heralds yet another failed attempt at companionship.
I must admit to having doubts on this one. They have been gnawing at the back of mind for a little while. I've been holding back because of them and now I'm grateful that I listened. Thank you Gut!
As an aside though, I can't help but feel a little coquettish. A vixen in the night. Maybe, just perhaps, if I was in a different, bigger city, and the man was, well, the same man, I would be tempted to continue this tryst until I got bored and moved onto the next.
Un/fortunately, I have too much of a conscience, one too many morals and too little degrees of separation in this city to allow it.
At the risk of this scenario becoming a scene from a crappy reality tv show I really must call him on it.
But how? Do I go on our next planned date where I order the most expensive champagne on the menu then dramatically splash it in his face, flick my hair and stalk out? Or, do I confront him now, ask how his wife is perhaps? The Drama queen in me craves the former.
It remains to be seen, but one thing is for dang sure: the behaviour of men never ceases to amaze me.
SCARLET WOMAN signing out.
*Disclaimer: all purported facts are yet to be checked directly with the source. Or does that even matter?
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