An Invitation to Infidelity

It was a fresh start at a new job. Career oriented individuals might call it, "a waste of time" to work for a company that you're not planning to lay root in. Others might say, "invest your time in a career not a job". It was a call center. The great foundation of corporate America,  the place where the educated, too lazy or self ambitious or lets be honest, the place where everyone goes to work to make more than minimum wage and stay a float. The land of, " I have one more semester to graduate, full-time work and part-time school, the world of college is not for everybody." 

This was the first job that I had the opportunity of having in quite sometime -- the first official and legal paid gig in more than two years. I wasn't new to corporate but there was a sense of reintroduction to a world that I had long forgotten about. The world of 9-5's, women in pencil skirts and thongs, with low hanging blouses to captivate the mind and intrigued the weakened thought. The world where men lay patiently in waiting for the training classes to show off the beautiful women, as the training instructor guides them around the work space showing them where they will work once training has ended. I was apart of this quarters training class, a newbie if you will. 

The inside of the training facility was empty and cold. Granted, it was spring time in Texas, but the cold of the winter was holding on tighter than an adolescent being dropped off for their first day of school. We entered the classroom, took our places at seats that bared our names, we looked around as if to take mental inventory of those who surrounded us. There appeared to be more women than men. Of course it would be that way, we were outnumbered 5 to 1. As I took mental inventory, I took to no one. After individual introductions about who we are, where we come from and how many members of our immediate family, I began to learn more about my cohorts. Most of all the women were married or with children outside of marriage, the men were married as well or they also were single fathers who co-parented. I didn't fall into either of those categories. I was a college dropout, who had previously went through a harsh breakup, lost a high paying job and was currently hiding my car from the company that I owed money too. There was no greatness happening in my life at this point; the foundation had been broken -- no threads to hold on to. 

After 3 weeks of training I had began to learn more about my counterparts. Some I liked more than others, a few of us had begun to create a bond. I was known to be a decent friend in my day, and those who knew me would likely say the same, so the idea of creating a new friendship with this guy named Randall in my class seemed beneficial. Randall was slim and chilled with a nonchalant demeanor, like a duck nothing stuck to him. He just liked to laugh and get through the day. After our initial introduction i thought Randall to be very simplistic, not someone I would waste much time talking to, but after a month or so in training we grew to become very intertwined and respectful of each others opinions. He was married with 3 kids, so we didn't have a lot in common but conversing with him made the days blow by. 

There was a woman who sat 2 rows in front of us. There was was something about her, something mysterious but I wasn't sure if that was good or bad. She was married with children herself. I often heard her and a few other women speak often about their marriages and children and how difficult all of it could be. As I sat back and thought to myself, "I am one of the lucky ones." I don't have to answer to anyone, but I was in a situation where although I was single doing whatever it was that I wanted to do, I was still unhappy and the feeling of being discarded from my last relationship still lingered heavily. As the women continued to carry on, one of them stopped and politely invited me to the conversation, she asked me, "Have you ever dated a woman with kids?" 

I replied emphatically, "No! I could never do that. I don't like ready made families."

I did not remember her name, but then she asked...

"How do you know if you would like it, if you've never tried it?"

I replied, "I don't know but I just have a feeling I wouldn't like it."

And then out of nowhere, "she" jumped into the conversation, she who had no name but eyes that told stories of things undone, and a body that could be reckless if not handled with care. I had heard her speak several times but I didn't really know her. She didn't start out in training with everyone, she had already been a current employee at the company, but she was inserted last minute into this training class. She picked up the conversation where I had left off, she asked me the same question as the other women but she added a little sauce to it.

She asked, "So you wouldn't talk to someone like me because I have kids, forreal?"

I replied, "No. It's just not for me."

I saw it in her eyes then that she could be the one to change my stance on this particular question. Even though when I replied I sounded confident but deep down I knew that If ever left alone with a woman like that, there wouldn't be too many times that I would say no, if any. She caught me outside of the training class the next day, as she walked up wearing a leopard print wrapped skirt with a belt at the waste line to hold it all together. She was beautiful and something told me that she had worn that dress just for me, that she had done her hair and put on smokey make-up all for me. I could've been wrong but as men we like to think that it's all about us from time to time. She set down elegantly, crossed her legs and began to entice me physically and mentally with her conversation. She spoke of things in her past to allow me to get to know her and she exposed her life as it was right then. I felt that she was attempting to invite me into her space, so I invited her to a party. 

She called me to let me know she was 5 minutes out. There was quite a few people who had came out for the party, the music was great, the atmosphere felt as if it had been written by a producer themselves, everything was in its rightful place that night. It had multiple dance floors, but it was one of those joints where candy colored strobe lights were the only lights once the party got started. When she arrived she made use of her time, she had a few drinks with me, catered to some of my needs and after a passive aggressive conversation with another woman who had previously shown interest in me had ended, she offered to take me home. As we got closer to my apartment we put our conversation and intent to good use. I grew closer to her in the 30 minutes it took her to drive me home than I had been to anyone else in awhile. By the time we arrived her intentions were to no longer just drop me off and leave, so I invited her up for a drink and allowed her mind to no longer wonder about "what if" possibilities and it was in that moment that we did what came natural to two consenting adults who wanted more in that moment than what life had recently been offering us.