Two years ago, I went bay fishing. Although not an avid fisherman, it was an experience.
Our guide, ‘Captain Frank’ was an older man whose language was as salty as the bay waters he fished in. Once out on the water, his fish tales soon went to stories of his sexual adventures.
Although he knew a lot about fish, his preferred topic of conversation was sexual exploits. He told of picking up a woman one night in a local bar. They went to a motel where they engaged in carnal knowledge. His versions were filled with colorful language.
It was only after their encounter that he asked her “What’s your name?” She limited her reply to her first name only. The fisherman was puzzled at her response.
He followed up with “What’s your last name?” She replied, ‘I can’t tell you that. You know my husband”.
Although the fisherman told his story as a tale of sexual conquest, it struck me as sad. The whole encounter was impersonal and empty. It left me wondering if that was all there was to some people’s life, meaningless encounters with people they will never see again.
When you have to hide your true identity for fear of being found out, you’ve become a prisoner of your desires. Each of the people in the story was surrounded by loss.
Although like other fisherman stories, I don’t know what parts are true and which are embellished. What I do know is that stories like this happen quite often.
Statistics indicate that most affairs are with those you know rather than with strangers. This adds a dimension of alienation and pain to any affair.
When it comes time for putting the pain behind you and start recovering from an affair, order the Affair Recovery Workshop. It takes you through the recovery journey from discovery through breaking the family patterns associated with affairs.
Knowing what to do and when to do it can keep you from the cold, impersonal world of “You know my husband” episodes.
Keeping It Real,
Jeff
