Would I have an affair? Would I have an affair?
I’ve thought about this a lot. No. No I would not have an affair. Mainly because it would involve getting a babysitter, and that is time consuming. If a handsome man lured me away from my marital bliss to a hotel for some rumpy pumpy, I think I would simply sleep in the hotel sheets with the high thread count – no sleazy hole for me – order room service, and have a long nap. Maybe I’d make time for a bubble bath and my book. I would – of course – pay the hunk back for the room, and send him on his way.
If it took lying and saying I was having an affair just to escape to a decent hotel for some respite, then yes, I might lie about having one. The guilt would be the same – because as a mum to three young kids and a wife to an artistic man I have very little time to totally unwind. And when I do, I feel guilty. Guilty that I am resting, guilty because I am resting and the laundry is piled taller than my eldest child (who I might add is in the 97th percentile for height). Guilty that I should be playing with the kids, losing weight, dusting, hoovering, writing, (which, obviously, I am doing now.) Or – if I am not guilt ridden whilst resting – all I can hear is screaming and feel the mess building as the chaos spirals out of control. The resting then starts to become rather stressful.
So, I fantasise – about lying about having an affair. No sex. Just the thrill of a cheeky escape to have a quiet bath in a tidy bathroom and a nap in a fluffy bed that I don’t have to make. I couldn’t let my husband know because he would want to come too, and then so would the kids , so the illicit hotel adventure would become a Travelodge with an adjoining room. Travelodges do not have high quality bedding. Nor do they have little travel toiletries. Which is great for a budget holiday or a limited expense account – but for God’s sake if I am going to indulge in hot afternoon (hot because of the bath, and a spanking……clean room) then it is going to be classy.
If I had an affair I wouldn’t settle for a middle aged man who is in a similar stage in life to my husband. No – I’d want a hunky thing who is mad for sex and doesn’t think much. So my housewife retreat is going to be the accommodation equal to a simple-thinking, energetic good-looking man with pecs. The hotel equivalent to pecs would be a four-poster bed with a TV positioned so you can watch in bed without craning your neck, and very powerful batteries in the remote so you can change channels and not move. What bliss. I can’t imagine the joy a secret hotel affair would bring , let alone the excitement of being so deceiving. Given that my husband would get very jealous of the nap and well-positioned telly in bed, it’s best not to mention my plan . A gal can dream…
Oh my – I think my saucepan has just boiled over.