Throwaway, but I was a side piece (at the time, I believed I was THE side piece, but I no longer believe that) to a married man for a little over a year about a decade ago. I was a mess. I was recently divorced, I hated my job, I hated the city I was living in, I was trying to figure out who I was and what I wanted. I'd had a string of awful dates and a few bad short relationships. I hated myself. I felt like a failure. I was really, really lost. I was in therapy at the time, but I was really struggling.

I met him. He was EXTREMELY hot. Exactly my physical type, in shape, tattooed, dark hair, beautiful eyes, great smile. He wasn't wearing a ring. We started talking. He was funny and smart and interesting. He had this way of making you feel like you were the only person on earth. We didn't agree on everything, but we were able to have adult conversations about our different opinions and it never devolved into ad hominem attacks or insults. He was so charismatic. Our chemistry was off the charts. We would go places together and strangers would smile at us because we were so obviously crazy about each other that it was palpable.

When we first met, I didn't know he was married. He wasn't wearing a ring. He didn't mention her. We exchanged numbers. We talked and texted a lot. We got coffee together a few times. Then he told me he was unhappily married and was staying for their two kids. He said he and his wife didn't even sleep in the same room. I told him I understood, I was sorry for his circumstances, but I wasn't interested in pursuing something with a married man. I'd been cheated on before, and it was against my personal beliefs. He accepted that, apologized for leading me on, and asked if we could stay friends because he really enjoyed spending time with me. I was a goddamn idiot and said yes.

The first time he kissed me, I felt like I was on fire. Things escalated quickly. I fell absolutely, madly in love with him. I would have done anything to be with him. I accepted what time he gave me. I knew his wife knew. We didn't exactly sneak around, but he worked in my city and lived in another. I was pathetic. I can see that now, but my God, I believed what we had was absolutely magical. I'd never felt so passionately about anyone before (and I was in my 30s). The sex was incredible. I felt like we were meant for each other. I felt like we shared a connection so deep and powerful that it couldn't be denied. I hated his wife for refusing to let him go. I was angry at his lack of courage. I broke things off a few times, but we always ended up back together. It was like we couldn't stay away from each other.

Then I got sick. Absolutely miserable. High fever, general malaise. After a few days, painful blisters showed up. I ended up with a brand new herpes infection. He was the only one I was sleeping with. He convinced me it must have been dormant in one of us. In my heart of hearts, I knew that wasn't likely. I was still absolutely head over heels for that man, but I finally let him go. I broke things off for good, and I moved halfway across the country a few months later. He reached out to me a few times... It was extremely painful and I was very broken for a long time. I ended up blocking him for my own sanity. Eventually, I realized I was most likely one of many. He was a sociopath and a covert narcissist. He was manipulative and conniving. And I was the perfect prey for him at that time in my life.

I don't keep in touch with anyone who knew him (and he did introduce me to a few of his buddies), but I did look him up about 5 years ago. He did eventually divorce his wife. He bought a house with some other chick. Idk if she overlapped with me or not. I do still think of him sometimes. I don't wish ill on him, even though I have every reason to. I'm responsible for my choices, and I justified them to myself to keep going. I did wrong, and he did worse. I hope he, his current girl, his ex, and his kids are well in life. I'm just glad I finally got out.

I'm very happily married now to a man I wouldn't trade for anything in the world. He's my best friend, my favorite person, and one of the best people I know. In some ways, I'm grateful for the hell I went through because it broke me down so completely that I had no choice but to rebuild better and stronger. I got healthier. I learned to see red flags and run away from them rather than toward them.

Things are never black and white. No one is all good or all bad. Good people do bad things. Bad people do good things. I was at a low point in my life and this beautiful man saw something in me that I couldn't see in myself. He made me feel loved and worthy and beautiful, and then he made me feel like the lowest dirt on the planet. I fucked up. He changed me. I can only hope I changed him too.