Were They Unfaithful

Were they unfaithful?


I mean did they, like, cheat on their partners?

No. How can you cheat without being unfaithful?

Did they kiss?

No kissing. No cheating. No unfaithfulness took place.

Hugging probably took place?

Everybody hugs now. Hugs are obsoleting handshakes. Hugs don’t mean anything.

They met at a gym, right?


And she was experienced and he didn’t know the routines?

Something like that.

I believe you’ve said she helped him with the gear – sort of like a personal trainer would do. That’s how they first got talking to each other, isn’t it?


Well, there is a lot of body contact going on in that kind of situation. Casual touches that can be implicitly meaningful, even arousing.

Or mean nothing whatsoever.

Consider all the incidental touching that goes on between men and women – a pat on the shoulder, a stroke of the hair, you know Let me straighten your tie or I think I’ve got something in my eye, can you look?

What in the hell are you talking about?

Could it have happened on some occasion that she might have stood beside him so that he could feel her breast against his arm causing him to become flushed and wonder if this was just an accident that her breast and his arm were experiencing each other? Could that have happened?

Only in your fantasies.

Where else did they meet besides the gym?

A coffee or two. A lunch once.

That’s it?

She sat in on one of his lectures at the university.

Uh huh? Why would she do that? Was she interested in molecular biology?

They’re both at the university. She teaches political science, you know. He mentioned giving a lecture on Chromatin Immunoprecipitation and she just happened to be free at the time.

She sat through a whole lecture on . . . what did you call it?

Chromatin Immunoprecipitation.

Hey, now isn’t that strange? Doesn’t that indicate something?

No . . . and once she gave him a lift in her car.

Aha! The plot thickens. Now they go riding around in her car. Why didn’t you tell me all this from the start? What happened in the car?

Nothing happened in the car. She gave him a lift home. He commented on her fuzzy dice.

She had fuzzy dice?

She had fuzzy dice hanging from her rear view mirror. He couldn’t get over a political science professor having fuzzy dice in her car. He sang the fuzzy dice song for her.

Which is?

Fuzzy dice
Bongos in the back
My ship of love
Is ready to attack

Ah ah . . .

He was joking.

Did they drive off somewhere and park and – what’s the word for it – just talk?

They’re both happily married, you know. They both have kids.

That don’t mean shit-all.

It does to some people.

Did he ever comment on her looks? Did he ever tell her she was beautiful or attractive either directly or indirectly?

Probably. She’s a good-looking woman. People compliment each other.

Doesn’t calling someone attractive, by definition mean that you are attracted to them?

Maybe in another world, under different circumstances there might have been something more between them – they had a lot in common – but in this world they were just friends.

So you’re one of those people who believe that men and women can actually be friends?

Don’t you?

If there was mutual attraction involved it would be difficult. There would always be that elephant in the room.

We’re not animals. We don’t lust after every person we’re attracted to.

Why do you think Muslims cover up their women in burkas and niqabs?

I don’t know. Why don’t you ask a muslim.

Getting back to the matter at hand; when they were in that restaurant – you did mention them eating together – were there moments when they weren’t talking, you know, just sitting there gazing into each other’s eyes and neither one can look away and they just sit there in silence for maybe a minute, only it seems like an eternity?

I can’t tell you every detail of their relationship, but I can tell you —

Did you know that if any two people who share a reasonable amount of attraction stare at each other at close range in silence for over 60 seconds they will, with 81% probability, fall in love.

No, I never heard of that and it’s obviously bullshit.

Well, it’s scientifically proven. You should give it a spin.

Thanks for the tip.

Did they ever dance together?


I was thinking of a scenario like this: They unexpectedly find themselves together in a club late at night – just by coincidence, mind you, and it’s a bit awkward for them because everyone in there is dancing and they are just standing at the edge of the dance floor drinking beer, and the music is so loud they can’t talk, and then a slow dance comes on.

There isn’t any slow dancing in clubs anymore. You’re out of touch with the scene.

Well then maybe this was some sort of university social event, but that is irrelevant because it’s the last dance of the night, and it’s a romantic song, like that Damien Rice thing or maybe FKA Twigs’ Pendulum.

You can’t dance to Pendulum. It’s absurdly slow.

Well then you tell me what song . . . and without saying anything they turn to each other, hesitatingly, and sort of fall into this uncommitted movement, loosely joined and their hands are moist either from holding the beers or nervousness . . .

Such tedious details.

. . . and he clumsily steps on her foot and they laugh and he is just close enough so that strands of her hair tickle his face and he can smell the sweat on her neck since they have just come from the gym and have not had a chance to shower.

That would be a bummer.

Meanwhile some reckless drunken couple bumps into them and they’re thrown together and his lips graze her cheek and their legs intermesh and she can feel that he has a hard-on.

Am I supposed to respond to these fantasies which have nothing to do whatsoever with what really went on between them?

C’mon, I’m just interpolating – putting together the puzzle pieces.

Only you are fabricating the non-existent pieces of a non-existent puzzle. It’s all in your twisted mind.

Uh huh. But maybe in their minds as well. Wouldn’t that constitute unfaithfulness?

What goes on in the mind stays in the mind, except in your case, obviously. Instead of messing with real people’s lives you should probably write pulp fiction.

You think?

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