Too Much Music

When we do this – which isn’t often – when we do this it never occurs to me that you’re married. That I’m married. That we are married. When we do this – which isn’t often – it’s not about us or them or rules or society. It’s a purely selfish act, when we do this. It’s not an affair. It’s not a relationship. It’s not anything. It’s just us and the night; and probably too much wine and certainly too much music. It’s a connection, but not to each other. It’s a connection to the past. It’s the fun we should have had when we were eighteen but we didn’t, because we were too busy playing at being grown-up; playing house and making commitments and not thinking about how the choices we made then would still be affecting us ten years later.

It’s a clear space, when we do this, a moment of clarity. To be the people we think we are in our heads and not the people our friends know or our children see. You tell me I’m funny and beautiful and a very clever girl and when you tell me those things, they become true. Just for a moment. Just for the time when we do this. It’s addictive. It’s selfish. I’m not sure how you feel about it. It’s never expected. It feels natural and it feels nice but it doesn’t feel right or wrong or good or bad. There’s no judgement when we do this, there’s no darkness to it or malice. There is recognition of a need, and that’s all. Maybe it’ll turn into something else, something more complicated but I don’t think it will. You don’t want it to.  I don’t want it to.

When we do this – which isn’t often – when we do this, it’s always the last time.

(c) Em Fleming

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