Around 5 o’clock Derrick—my older, married lover—walked into the hotel room. He put his golf clubs down, scooped me off my feet, carried me to the bed, and started kissing my neck passionately. Had I not witnessed with my own eyes that he was cuddling up to his wife on the golf course just hours earlier, that night would have been magical. The fervor in his kiss was enough to leave me breathless, as usual, but it just wasn’t the same after knowing about the events that had transpired that afternoon. I couldn’t get the image of them hugging and laughing together out of my head.
I pushed him away playfully and asked about his day—a part of me was hoping he would fess up. He said he had a peaceful time golfing and did not mention his wife at all. I was upset, but I continued on with our evening. As hard as it was for me to forget about his wife, I did my best to put on a smile and pretend like nothing happened.
Our trip eventually came to an end, and I never said a word. I wasn’t sure how I would approach the problem. I was also not ready to deal with the potential consequences of confronting Derrick. What I did know was that he was happily married, and despite his proposal to me, he really had no intention of divorcing his wife. This was just something I had to accept.
After our trip to Monterey, it finally sunk in that all I would ever be was a mistress. It was hard to understand why he had given me so much—a car, house, clothes, handbags, jewelry, time, and love. My mind could not grasp the concept. Why would he propose if he had no desire to leave his wife? For a long time I tricked myself into believing he would leave her, but deep down I knew he never would. And still, I stayed with him.
I didn’t know why I couldn’t just walk away. I was young and beautiful—I could get any guy I wanted. So why was I so hooked on Derrick and this dysfunctional relationship? I was hoping that if I stuck it out for a little bit longer, maybe I’d get the answers I was looking for…