SomewhereMan had an interesting experience recently, and we are fortunate that he decided to write about it for us. It's amazing how truth is better than fiction, isn't it? Enjoy!
It's 3 p.m. last week and my workday is about to take a serious jolt.
Here is the texting log.
Mistress: Hi! What r u up to? I have to head to the hockey game tonight. A function that I signed up as part of the group I'm with.
Me: You at a table or in the suites?
Mistress: A suite, I believe.
Uh-oh. This isn't good. My wife will also be at the game. In one of the suites. We don't live in a gigantic city so our hockey arena only has four suites.
Crap. Crap. Crap.
And there's nothing I can really do. Will today be the day of the Wife-Mistress face-to-face meeting. I imagine Addison looking at Meredith Grey at the airport, saying, "so you're the slut who is screwing my husband." I imagine Stalin-Churchill-Roosevelt at Yalta. I imagine bad, bad things happening.
I'm stuck at work. Wondering if today will be the big blowup.
I look around the office. This is going to be an awful day.
Back to the text log.
Me: And which event are you going to?
She writes back that it WILL be the exact same event that my wife has to attend. That means about 30 people will be in this 15 x 25 room.
Here is the backstory: the mistress and I had been "fully intimate" for two months by this point. Best sex of my life...without question. Even to the point where we are both considering leaving our marriages to start a life together.
And it may entirely backfire at a stinkin' hockey game.
The angle here is that wife once found a pic of mistress on one of my email accounts. She knows what mistress looks like. It wasn't a racy pic but one that I forgot to delete. (I know, I know...)
Me: Well, I'm not sure what to tell you. I'm not going to say 'don't go to this'. That's not my place. Any thoughts on this?
Mistress: I HAVE to go. I signed up for it.
Mistress (five minutes later): I have an idea. Will tell you about it later.
Now I'm sweating, flowing with stress, two hours later. Then I get an email.
From the mistress.
I click on the attachment.
My platinum-blonde girlfriend walks out of her salon... with chestnut brown hair and glasses.
Mistress: Sorry I'm not blonde anymore.
Me: Holy smokes. How much did that run you?
Me: I'll gladly pay that.
Mistress and wife spent an hour in the same room, within a few feet of each other. Mistress didn't need to offer her "fake name" to wife since mistress tried to avoid eye contact.
Gotta say...I was impressed with the Mistress's quick thinking.
Author's Note: Mistress dumped my prowlin' ass this morning. Maybe I should've paid her more... :)