My affair with Derrick started as a spark and turned into a wildfire. After being mentally abused and physically pushed to my limits, I never imagined what would happen—I mentally checked out of my marriage and began a five month affair with Derrick. My husband was working many more hours, as he was working on expanding his business, and Derrick’s wife, Mrs. Friedman, was once again starting to neglect her husband. She became more social and went out with friends various times a week. This was great news for Derrick and I, since I spent most of my time with him when his wife was away. If my husband was home, I would tell him that I was going out with my friends, and when he was out at work, he needed no explanation.
Being with Derrick was, at first, for comfort. He supported me in times of need and was there for me when my husband packed my bags and kicked me out of the house. For months, we kept our relationship platonic, but as soon as my husband disowned me, I could no longer contain my feelings for Derrick. After our initial night of passion, I could no longer have enough of him. We would meet up weekly at a local hotel. I was uneasy going to his house—after all, there were pictures of him and his wife plastered everywhere. I needed to feel less lousy and knew that a hotel would be the perfect spot. It was wonderful being with Derrick again.
The first time at our hotel, I had told him how uneasy I felt about always meeting like this at the hotel. I felt dirty and cheap. It was a five-star hotel and we always stayed in a luxurious suite, but the action itself of us being unfaithful to our spouses was enough to taint it all. I remember the first time I walked up to the hotel door. I had sat in the parking lot for an hour. Derrick was worried something had happened to me because I was not answering his phone calls. I simply could not swallow what I was doing. I was officially going to have an affair. The thought of such disrespectful actions left a bitter taste in my mouth. I could not muster up the courage to walk into the hotel.
When I finally did get out of my car and enter the hotel, I stood in front of the door of the room with weak knees. I wanted to run back home to my husband, but the desire in me was too strong. But when Derrick opened the door, I immediately knew that I was in the right place, with the right man, no matter what my stomach said.
Yellow rose petals, which happen to be my favorite color for roses, were laid down on the ground. The path led past the bedroom and into the balcony, where Derrick had set up a bottle of wine, long-stem yellow roses, candles, and a gift. My heart fluttered as I opened the gift. It was a beautiful black diamond ring with matching earrings. Derrick explained that it was a promise ring—this was his way of promising to be there no matter what. We were both entering into an affair that had the potential to destroy both of our lives.