As with life itself, it starts with one idea, a seed planted in my mind that opens up a possibility that wasn’t there just before those words came out of your mouth.

No, it wasn’t the idea of the kiss, but before, the risk you took in telling me you had talked to another woman. I did not think that infidelity was in your vocabulary until then. And then it manifested.

Next, yes, came the idea of a kiss “the problem is that when I drink this type of liqueur, I feel like kissing”. I pass you the glass. Talk about “implicit”. You ask me a bit later:

‘Depends… are you up for the risk?’

‘It’s not such a big risk for me.’

But it was. There is always the risk of the aftermath, the devastation after a bomb. I wasn’t lying then. When I said it wasn’t a risk for me, I was in the bubble of “there is nothing but now”. Not at that moment, there wasn’t. I could not make myself care.

The exquisite elicit touch through the night, the dancing, the hands on my back when no-one is looking, the stolen kisses, the dark room and more stolen moments. You in my mouth. Being caught coming out of the room. Can I send a message to one who saw us coming out of the room with guilty faces? I would say:

‘The first rule of fight club: What happen at A.’s, stays at A.’s’

We might still pay for our folly, but again, I can’t make myself care. It was worth it. I remember the first time you walked into the office. I sent a message to my friend about you. Don’t get your ego out of the stratosphere, you aren’t the most handsome man on Earth, it was just that I felt the attraction and connection immediately. Later I learnt you were taken and added you to the box of another crush. I appreciate the male, the masculine, the strong, professional and interesting in many forms. You got to be one of the prime specimens I keep in that box.

Other conversations through the months proved me right. We have similar minds, thought patterns, we are both interested in how people think and react to life. I fell for you, even if it was in an unrealised way that would never be. It wasn’t in a teenager way that hopes something will ever really materialise. It was in a mature way when you recognise someone you could connect with, if life had been different and our paths were some other way.

I recently found out that the path to a woman’s sex is her heart, a path to a men’s heart is his sex. That is where the true risk lives.

I loved you already, in this non-committal way of being able to let you go at any moment, but loved you enough to take you to bed, risks and all. Now… you are in risk, because sometimes a one night stand, a fling, can open you up for things you did not consciously want to see.

Infidelity is never something I want to be involved in, but I couldn’t avoid it in your case.

If I died now, I would rather have done it, exactly as I did it. No regrets. Never. And as I have a warped morality, no guilt either. I’ll gladly pay the price. The painful price of seeing you and not having you, the possibility of people knowing about it, the one who might not abide by the fight club rules.

I remember your sexy, voice saying ‘I want to see you dancing naked’, ‘I want to fuck you senseless’ but what undoes me every time is the memory of your smell, the texture of your body, the image of you sleeping naked on my bed.

The act, the acts itself play in endless flashback loops in my eyes. Your hands, your mouth, you inside me, you saying you wanted to look into my eyes, rough and tender moments, loved them all.

What am I to do when I next see your smile and have to pretend I’ve never tasted that mouth, kissed those lips? Or that you kissed mine, and not just the lips in my mouth.

I swear, it will have to be as if it was all in another dimension. I’ll comment on your tea, we won’t go out for a coffee because you are particular about your tea, I’m particular about my coffee; and that will be it life will go on as if last week never happened.