The big question on my mind is when did flirtation turn into an affair? When did it happen? Where? Was it when chatting became a daily routine? When talking about music, goats, and planes began to matter? Precious little of what we talked about was sexual, in fact I can only remember it being mentioned once. "What are you into? This that and the other, you?" "Not x, everything else is very much negotiable?" Was that when it started?
Or was it when, getting called on the images projected, I admitted the lie and and frantically did everything to change the now tainted impression? Perhaps. And yet I somehow think it was earlier. Why should I have cared? Why did I wait somewhat anxiously for your reply? Was happy when you said you'd gotten it. "give me time to digest this." "ok" and yet I was there every time you turned up in "our" place, ready, saying hello, hoping. It was too late then. A dog could not have wagged its tail more eagerly, wanting to please. "I think we should talk , on the phone". I was apprehensive, but still I phoned you. The number graciously provied. "you sound more Glaswegian than I thought" "well, that's just me, pick up accents quickly. It's me though, honest, really, the German." "oh I can detect the accent. Listen..." You sounded different, too. Not what I expected. "Friends is fine by me" we both decided. You have your man, I have mine. And still gehst du Kerl mir nicht aus dem Kopf.
Then silence. until we next met in "our space". I hadn't been there in a few days, work , culture my man had kept me away. Then you said "hello". "how are things?" "fine, too much work, the usual..." "I'll be in town" You had been, so recently, I remembered. "why ?" "need to get some clothes, didn't get it all done last week." And then the question, the one I had hoped for and yet not expected. "Do you want to get together?" "No," I say, "too much work." but there is the excitement, the strange feeling in my stomach. The chat continued. Normal stuff. You are back in form, tired still but healthier. Oh, what the hell. "Yes, let's meet. Work can wait. I'll just have to pick up the slack somewhere else." "Are you sure?" "yes". The minutes stretch, the conversation suddenly purposeful, driven. The date is set, so is the time. A place to meet decided upon quickly. We'll meet. Talk. Like Friends to be. I'm comitted now. Won't let you down. It's not in my nature.
The set day: work is tedious. I'm unfocused. A slushy feeling in my stomach, only good to focus on one thing. And although I dash home and even change my pants I don't understand that this is an affair. Blank it out, completely, live for the moment. Angst ridden, nervous. Itake the bus psych myself up. The music of my teenage years for distraction. The bus arrives, I'm early. Get off a stop earlier then I need, just can't bear it. Being sixteen again, stagefright. Best to walk it out of the system. Forgot to put on aftershave, great. And no deodorant to be gotton anywhere. Well, you are outdoorsy and rugged and I hope you won't mind. I'm at the meeting point. You say my name, come from behind, and here is me thinking I'd spot you first. Rubbish.

Deep thoughts and emotional turmoil

I supose it is entirely possible that the seven year hump drags n into year 8 and 9 of a relationship. Things remain unsaid that should have been talked about. Little things get blown out of all proportions as a knock-on effect of this.
The question on my mind is, though is it normal that after this length of time the relationship with your partner feels more like being flatmates that lovers? You live together, you sleep in the same bed if for less often at the same time. There are moments of tenderness as well as passion but they have taken the back seat.
Intellectually I suppose the physical side of the relationship might be negligible but I am not intellectual. Being physical together is important to me. Sleeping together in the same bed at the same time is important to me, it is a very physical sign of appreciation.
We've never given eachother many cuddles outside our beds and that is wrong too. These days I feel I get more hugs from my colleagues than my man.
I'm sure there are things that bug Frank about me, like the amount of weight I've gained in the last 5 years and my tendency to be messy. I can live with the second, am not sure about the first but the things that really hurt me were when he called me pompous and arrogant and the fact that he does not actually take the time to listen and think about what my thoughts are on some matters. He might not agree with me on somethings and I don't claim to agree on everything with him but at least I try to listen and see where he comes from. or what he does. Somehow in the attribution of blame I feel putting on weight is a far lesser "crime" than turning yourself into an alcoholic. You can ask whether the one begets the other until the cows come home it is a chicken and egg scenario into which external factors have been introduced that work on internal motivations. Nonetheless they will need to be addressed.
And in the middle of it all the question of whether there is an excuse for selfishness on grounds of self-preservation.
A new player has entered the field, well been made to join more like, and now there is emotional upheaval. I know Frank and I had a good thing for a long time. I know we should try and work on it and yet there is doubt as to whether it might not be better to stop?