The Temptation and Attraction Between Steven and His Colleague: A Cautionary Tale of Work Romance

The attraction between Steven (48) and his colleague made his marriage pale. Everything changed when, completely despondent from the conflict, he threw his soul on the table.

“She said, ‘You know, Steven, I’ve been thinking really hard, but I haven’t given you any indication that I was crazy about you, too. And besides, I have a boyfriend and you and I haven’t even slept together.’

“It was eleven in the morning, a Thursday in September. We are colleagues, had just attended a meeting and then agreed to meet in the park. Shortly before that, I had informed her that we had to stop what had been going on between us for five years, a strong attraction that we continued to follow through with the two of us having lunch together and exchanging confidences. I had said, ‘Anne, this has to stop. My family is going to die, all I think about is you.’ But that morning in the park it turned out that she had a very different idea of ​​what we had. We walked one round and another and I wondered which one of us had gone mad. Have I imagined everything? Her hand on my leg during a meeting, her hand on my back by the campfire during team building? The confidential conversations? She cried, because she felt very sorry for me. It seemed like she really didn’t realize the impact she’d had on me all along, though I found it hard to believe.

“Since a lavish wedding party of a colleague about five years ago, when I suddenly started looking at her with different eyes, we have drawn closer and closer. We walked into each other’s rooms, talked about her relationship, my relationship, my children, and at least twice a week we went out for lunch together. I became more and more open, she energized me with her cheerfulness, and we installed a special app to secretly message each other. That sneakiness made it even more intense. Just like that, in the middle of the hallway, I said I was crazy about her. Once, when colleagues were around, I mimed in passing, “I love you.” She mimed back, “I love you too.” We didn’t kiss, and indeed, we’ve never slept together in all these years. It was as if we felt that if we lost that last fraction of restraint, we would irretrievably sever the thread that connected us to home.

“She gave me a short kiss on the mouth one day. We sat on a patio after work, and when I got up to pick up my kid from drumming lessons, she kissed me. She then made it clear that the kiss was a one-off. To me, that one half-kiss, those conversations that made me more self-aware, the presents she bought my kids on Christmas Eve, the books she started reading at my suggestion, were much more intimate than sex in a hotel room. How could she pretend nothing had happened year after year? I was surprised by that kiss. “I want to again,” I said. “No, that was just to know how it tastes,” she laughed.

“We fantasized openly and explicitly about how we would love each other if we did end up in bed one day. She said, “I’m not cheating, we’re just talking, there’s nothing wrong.” But fantasy is also a reality. It doesn’t matter what you call it, it’s about the effect all those words and thoughts have, how they make new lasting connections in your head. I said things to her that I never said to my wife. We even shared each other’s pain and insecurities. One time we sat together in a restaurant with a fireplace and fire pits outside. It was autumn, but dry. She got a call from her mother and I watched her face twitch as she walked out to continue the conversation calmly. I followed her and put her cardigan over her shoulders as I heard she got some bad news about her father. I could be very proud of her, but when something like that happened, I worried about her. That was new to me, I really only knew about my children.

“At the office, none of us knew and knows. We’ve been acting for five years. Was it a game? No, of course not, you can’t. I was willing to leave my wife and children for her, nothing was played about that. When I hinted at that, she responded diplomatically, “If I wasn’t in a relationship, I’d start dating you right away.” But maybe I only had an ear for the second half of that sentence. Maybe she was the exciting distraction I needed to cope with the daily routine at home. She did her best for me, with her heels and tasteful clothes, she sent me love songs and racy selfies. Isn’t that tempting?

“This summer, with my family in Greece, I was constantly thinking about her. I had told myself that I could only be myself with her, whoever that is. I had found myself increasingly jealous of co-workers who just chatted with her and acted absent from my family. You couldn’t call that a good relationship anymore. Suddenly I realized: now it’s enough. I was a grown guy who let himself go crazy. My addiction was not worth the erosion of my marriage.

“I told her that during the quickly organized meeting in the park. “I love you, but I can’t do this anymore,” I said. And then she spoke that one sentence. Yes, she cried, yes, she felt sorry for me, but denied the meaning of our togetherness. And now, six months later, our contact is again the usual contact between colleagues, friendly but distant. But it still bothers me: how could she erase everything that connected us, everything that was dear and valuable? No, we never had sex, but I’ve never been as intimate with anyone as I was with her.”