I’m 37, unmarried, and single. The woman I got involved with was my age, a former coworker, and married. We’re both from Bangalore, and we already had that familiarity of knowing each other through work.
Her marriage was struggling. From what she told me, she had married someone whose personality brought out very little of her best self. She felt I brought out a different side of her. It was a powerful thing to hear from someone I wanted to be close to.
We had a good time together. We took trips and stayed over when her husband was out of town. She said he was okay with the arrangement and connected that acceptance to difficulties he had sexually. That was the explanation I had; I didn’t have his perspective.
At the time, I treated the details of their marriage as their business. I was happy with what was happening between us, and I didn’t push much further. Looking back, I can describe what I understood without pretending I understood everything.
The physical connection was wonderful. She seemed able to open up after holding so much back in her marriage. But what stays with me also includes the quieter things: cuddling, working out together, and having someone to share ordinary time with. We weren’t only meeting for one part of each other.
Then we started falling in love. I think that frightened her. What had felt possible became confusing, and neither of us seemed to know what to do with the feelings we’d developed. We called it quits. The breakup took a toll on both of us.
I still don’t have a neat name for the relationship. Calling it an arrangement leaves out how close we became; calling it love doesn’t clear up the circumstances. I’ve wondered whether being single and dating a married woman is somehow more acceptable now, but a label wouldn’t change how it ended.
And despite the confusion, despite how much the ending hurt, I remember how good we were together. I’d love to have that again.
