In a subsequent flirty email she boldly suggested that I cook her a meal at my Wimbledon flat some time. I loved the shy, almost disbelieving smile when I paid her compliments. I adored how she smelled and the look she had when her seriousness descended into playfulness I consoled myself that at least she hadn’t thrown them away. I didn’t want to share Lauren, even with her husband of 12 years. The lone diner on the next table was no longer a private investigator.
The dating game is fun but the thrill of flirting and meeting lots of different women loses its appeal extremely quickly.
I would give up on having children of my own if it meant being with her.
I thought about how many women had been in my position, waiting for a man to leave his wife.
But I soon found I couldn’t just call or email her when I wanted to. But I did want to go public, meet her parents, her friends, her son. Even so, when it was her turn to pay, she would do so in cash so as not to leave a paper trail.
For fear of being found out, she signed off her emails with the instructions ‘No reply’ or ‘You may respond’. As a travel writer, I was working abroad a great deal.