That's what she said, "It was just a fling!" I had caught her with another man. She had given her body to him, shared his passion, satiated his desires, but it meant nothing. I was supposed to understand, to forgive her, to take her back. After all, it was just a fling.
She wasn't dismissive when she said it. She was desperate. I had to understand that it didn't mean anything. It was just sex. All should be forgiven.
It meant something to me. It damn well meant something to me! How many of her coworkers knew about this, knew I was the clueless cuckold, pitied me, laughed at me behind my back? How many knew that she was lying to me, playing me, and all the while sneaking off to have sex with another man? But it was just a fling.
I wonder how many hours she spent teasing him, talking with him, building him up, flirting with him, signaling her interest in him over me? I wonder how often she chose her clothes in the morning with a thought to how he would respond? I wonder if she ever thought that first kiss with him was a betrayal of me? After all, it was just a fling. It didn't mean anything.
I wonder what she thought that first time she went alone with him to lunch, smiled and laughed at his jokes, touched his hand, and looked into his eyes? Was she thinking of me sitting at my desk eating the sandwich I had packed for myself and working through the lunch hour?