The One and Only Time I Dated a Married Man

Or, How I Accidentally Became the Other Woman

Well, here’s a story I haven’t told in a very long time.

And before anybody gets their knickers in a twist, let me make one thing perfectly clear: I did not know the man was married.

There. I’ve established my defense. Now let’s proceed with the scandal.

I was young, not quite 21, and apparently susceptible to the charms of a musician. In my defense, this was an era when musicians had a certain mystique. They had long hair, questionable wardrobes, and the ability to make otherwise intelligent young women temporarily lose their minds.

This particular guy was a keyboardist in a local rock band.

I don’t remember exactly how we met. I don’t think it was at the bar where he played, because I wasn’t old enough to drink, and I’ve never been much of a drinker anyway. But somehow our paths crossed, sparks flew, and before long, we were something of an item.

Or so I thought.

After work, I’d head over to the bar where his band was playing, settle in, and enjoy the music. I was the attentive girlfriend, admiring my talented musician as he worked his magic on the keyboard.

And things weren’t confined to the bar.

He came over to the apartment I shared with a roommate. We’d have friends over, socialize, laugh, and generally behave like perfectly normal young people enjoying perfectly normal relationships.

Except, as it turned out, there was one rather significant detail missing from this otherwise charming little romance.

He had a wife.

Not an ex-wife.

Not an almost-ex-wife.

An actual, legally married, presumably waiting-for-him-to-come-home wife.

And I had absolutely no idea.

The Night the Music Stopped

One evening, I was sitting at the bar enjoying the band, probably gazing at my keyboard-playing Romeo with the sort of admiration that only a young woman with insufficient information can muster.

The band took a break and I waited for him to join me like he usually did.

And suddenly, one of the other musicians made a beeline for me.

“Can you come over here? I need to talk to you.”

Now, when a member of your boyfriend’s band approaches you with that particular expression, it’s generally not because you’ve won backstage passes.

He leaned in and delivered the news.

“His wife just walked in.”

His WHAT?

His WIFE?

I’m sorry. Did you just say WIFE?

As in married? Wedding ring? Till death do us part?

That wife?

I was stunned.

I had been dating this man for weeks. He’d been to my apartment. He’d met my friends. We’d spent time together like any other couple.

And somehow, nobody had thought to mention that there was already a Mrs. Keyboard Player.

Apparently, I was the last person to receive the memo.

The Perfect Little Arrangement

Eventually, I learned how he’d managed this impressive feat of romantic scheduling.

His wife was a nurse.

She worked nights.

And while she was off taking care of sick people, her husband was taking care of his extracurricular activities.

How convenient.

She was working the night shift, and he was working the nightlife.

One woman was earning a living. The other was unknowingly participating in a marital scandal.

And there he was, tickling the ivories and apparently anything else that struck his fancy.

I suppose I should have been impressed by his time-management skills. He had somehow managed to maintain a marriage, play in a band, and conduct a secret romance without missing a beat.

Unfortunately, honesty wasn’t among his talents.

But Wait. There’s More.

Now, I wish I could tell you that the moment I discovered he was married, I delivered a magnificent speech, tossed my hair, and marched out of that bar with the dignity of a woman in a Hollywood movie.

But real life is seldom that tidy.

I was young. I was shocked. And I was confused.

And then I did what people sometimes do when they desperately want a situation to make sense.

I started rationalizing.

Maybe their marriage was already over.

Maybe they were practically separated.

Maybe they were miserable together.

Maybe there was some perfectly reasonable explanation for why a married man had neglected to mention the small matter of his wife.

He certainly didn’t rush to correct any of those possibilities. Without coming right out and saying it, he managed to suggest that things at home weren’t exactly wonderful.

Ah, yes. The troubled marriage.

A story apparently as old as marriage itself.

So, for a brief period, I found myself in an uncomfortable state of romantic limbo. I hadn’t officially resumed the relationship, but I hadn’t quite closed the door either.

And then came the grand finale.

I discovered that my married boyfriend was seeing another woman.

Let me make sure we’re keeping score.

He had a wife.

He had me.

And now, apparently, he had a third woman.

Good Lord.

This wasn’t a love triangle. It was becoming a recreational sports league.

At this point, I began to wonder whether the man needed a girlfriend or a personal secretary to manage his appointments.

And suddenly, everything became crystal clear.

I wasn’t involved with some tortured romantic soul trapped in an unhappy marriage.

I was involved with a cad.

A first-class, gold-plated, thoroughly accomplished cad.

And that, my friends, was the end of that.

No Dramatic Exit Required

I didn’t throw a drink in his face.

I didn’t confront his wife.

I didn’t storm the stage and yank the plug out of his keyboard, although in retrospect, that might have made for a much better ending.

I simply ended the relationship.

I felt terrible for his wife.

She was working nights, caring for patients, presumably trusting that her husband was doing what he said he was doing.

And instead, he was conducting what appeared to be a one-man audition for a harem.

I never knew what happened to their marriag…at least not immediately. At some point years later they divorced and he remarried. I don’t know how long the other woman remained in the picture. And frankly, I have no idea how many other women may have been waiting in the wings.

Perhaps he was simply doing his best to live up to the rock-and-roll lifestyle.

Sex, drugs, and rock and roll.

Although in his case, I can only personally verify the rock and roll and the wandering libido.

What I Know Now

Looking back across all these decades, I’m struck by a few things.

First, how easily we can be deceived when we have no reason to suspect deception.

Second, how quickly we can begin inventing explanations for behavior that should probably require no further explanation.

And third, how often the truth eventually reveals itself, sometimes with an encore nobody asked for.

I was young, and perhaps a little naive. But I wasn’t stupid. Once I understood who I was dealing with, I was finished.

And I have never forgotten the lesson.

There’s also something rather liberating about getting older and being able to look back at these episodes without embarrassment.

At the time, it was upsetting. Today, it’s a pretty good story.

Age has a way of turning certain disasters into dinner-party entertainment.

And I’ve lived long enough to know that almost everyone has at least one chapter in their romantic history that could be titled, What in the Hell Was I Thinking?

This just happens to be one of mine.

So there you have it.

The one and only time I dated a married man.

Unknowingly, unwillingly, and ultimately, very briefly.

He’s still playing keyboards (won a Grammy and touring with a nationally known artist.) I hope he eventually learned that fidelity requires considerably more discipline than mastering a synthesizer.

Although I wouldn’t bet on it.

Now, it’s your turn.

Have you ever discovered something about someone you were dating that completely changed how you saw them? Or do you have a youthful romantic misadventure that makes you shake your head and laugh today?

You don’t have to share the scandalous details, although I certainly won’t discourage you. (I’ll share stories but never the other party’s name.)

Sometimes the stories we thought we’d take to our graves turn out to be the most entertaining ones to tell.

Thank you, as always, for spending a little of your time with me. I hope your week brings you laughter, good music, and absolutely no romantic surprises involving undisclosed spouses.

If this story made you laugh, smile, or remember one of your own questionable romantic decisions, please share it with a friend. And if someone forwarded this to you, I’d love to have you subscribe.

Until next time, keep your sense of humor. Life gives us plenty of material.

Julie Bolejack, MBA

The Mindful Activist

Scribe link: julies-journal.ghost.io