While he could be very affectionate, he made it clear from the outset that he didn’t consider – or want – us to be anything more than friends with benefits. For much of the time we were carrying on our affair – relationship? Fling? I’m still not sure how to categorise it – I thought I was fine with that. I was certain I didn’t want to be in a committed relationship at that time, with him or anyone else.
Yet when we were out together and he went home with somebody else, or when I heard he’d slept with someone after the last time we’d met, I found myself minding more and more, while knowing that I had no right to. It began to make me miserable.
Weird how often Granny was right, isn’t it?