I had to confess this. It’s like part of me doesn’t regret it, and part of me really does…
I said I wouldn’t do it. I said…I wouldn’t sleep with him.
I just met him last week. He had such a vibe…I like these poetry guys for some reason. There’s so deep…so brooding. And he was older…I like that.
39 to be exact. And I have just touched a quarter of a century.
If he was single, this would have been a hotly passionate affair that I never would have regarded with any guilt except maybe…just maybe…I slept with him too quickly. But he’s also still married. And claims it’s a separation.
I shower it doesn’t go away. I distract myself, it comes back. I tell myself I’m overreacting…and it just isn’t going anywhere.
But this was only the past two days. Maybe…just maybe…it will eventually go away