I had given my older, married boyfriend—the Stetson man—a CD of Michael Bolton’s love songs, and he listened to that CD everywhere, including his hotel room in Canada. Upon the Stetson man’s request, the hotel had supplied his room with a CD player, and so we listened to Michael Bolton as we made love. I have not been able to figure out exactly why this happened, but suddenly, in the middle of love making, I jumped up, grabbed my clothes, and left the room. On the way out the door, I said over my shoulder that I just couldn’t do this any longer. I told him we were over.
After leaving half naked from the Stetson man’s hotel room in Canada, I scrambled to get the key in the door of my own room. My plane would be leaving in a few hours, and so I only had a short amount of time to throw my belongings into my suitcase. While I was racing around my room collecting my things, my best friend called and told me that the Stetson man had called her—in the early stages of my relationship with the Stetson man, she was a bit like our go-between. She could tell right away by the tone of my voice that I was serious and in a lot of distress; given the circumstances with my husband and the Stetson man, she realized that my divorce was not far off in the future—it was imminent. She told me she would be right over, and within seconds she was at my door.
I let her in, and then continued with my packing. She told me that I would not find a better fit for my future, that he—the Stetson man—was the answer to all my prayers. She said that I needed to relax into it, and just allow it to happen. But the more she talked, the more I just wanted to run, far and fast. I felt like I had to get out of there. Before long, the Stetson man knocked at my door, looking confused and hurt. He had no idea what had happened to cause this reaction. One minute we were making love to Michael Bolton, and the next I was running out the door. Sadly, I could not explain my behavior to him because I could not even explain it to myself.
I finally managed to pack up my luggage, and I headed down to the hotel lobby to check out. The Stetson man came down with me and asked if he could accompany me to the airport. I said that was fine—what were a few more minutes? I imagined that after that car ride, I could end this affair once and for all. At that moment, all I could think about was the end…