A few months ago, for the first time in my life, I found myself face to face with a naked male celebrity. I hadn’t planned on this happening (does one ever plan to encounter a naked celebrity?) and the whole affair had a rather surreal air. It was one of those unexpectedly hot June days where everyone loses their head rather at the first sniff of real summer. Hormones run wild, and an innocent trip to the local gym can feel as sexually charged as the last 10 minutes of a school disco.
I’d seen him in there a few times before, and we’d always smiled and nodded hello at each other. But that day, as I sank grateful and sweating into a deep hip stretch after a particularly satisfying workout, he caught my eye, smiled and walked over to chat.
“You like to stretch a lot don’t you?” he laughed – and immediately I felt both giggly, and slightly like I was in a bad porno.
We chatted for a while about where we lived and what we did… I mentioned the book I was working on and soon we were swapping notes on our favourite books and podcasts like old friends.
“I’m going down the sauna” he finally announced. “Maybe I’ll see you there?”
“Sure!” I said, flattered that he wanted to continue the conversation.
Ten minutes later we picked up our discussion on the sweat-drenched wooden benches of the gym’s sauna. He told me about his difficult upbringing and the work ethic it had given. I told him about my frustrations at the world of corporate life and my aspirations for the future. The setting was straight out of a B-lost rom-com, yet our conversation held a raw honesty that transcended the awkwardness of the situation.
“I don’t know how you stay in here this long” he said after a while, pushing the sweat out of his eyes. “I’m done. Shall we have a shower?”.
Perhaps naively I assumed he meant the cold showers for rinsing just outside the sauna door. Instead, as I followed him out, he stepped inside one of the individual shower rooms, stood back and indicated I should follow him.
Trance-like, I stepped inside, closed the door and giggled nervously. I have no idea what I was thinking. But I was suddenly aware of not only a strong feeling that I didn’t wish to get a reputation as a ‘shower shagger’ at my gym – but also that the man who had just dropped his pants and turned on the shower faucet was well-known for being happily married.
Unsure how to broach this, I decided on candour.
“But you’re married!” I blurted.
The impact of my words was instantaneous. His sheepish grim faded, replaced by the haunted look of someone who has just come to from a nightmare. He ran his hands over his face and through his hair.
“Shit”, he said “You’re right. What the fuck am I doing?”.
Seated on the gym's patio for a solid 40 minutes afterwards, he bared his soul. He confessed to still being head over heels in love with his wife and to having a fulfilling sex life with her. It was as though a dormant animal instinct had sprung forth from the depths of his being, leaving him grappling with guilt and self-reproach. His tumultuous upbringing had also instilled in him an unwavering commitment to family. The clash between his deep-rooted values and this newfound, inexplicable urge had sent him into a spiral of remorse.
“You’re my guardian angel” he said. “Thank you for not letting me do that – I really need to go away and work out while I did this”.
“Could you speak to your wife about it?” I asked.
“Fuck no!” he said, looking horrified. “She’d be horrified!”.
Putting his celebrity aside, this was not an isolated incident. Lately, I seem to have become a magnet for married men in pursuit of extramarital affairs. I’m assuming it’s an age/life-stage thing. And while I've consistently turned down their advances (eventually), these encounters have led to some surprisingly profound discussions about their perspectives on sex within relationships.
A couple of months before this, bored in a co-working space on a rainy Wednesday, I got talking to James – an equally bored freelancer working on his first start-up. He complimented my necklace, we compared notes on the tedious tasks we were working on. We laughed and decided to get lunch together, relieved to have a distraction. He was handsome – and had a large gold wedding ring on his left hand.
After lunch he suggested a walk to wake us up. In the rain. Welcoming any activity to avoid work, I agreed. But it soon became clear there was chemistry crackling in the air.
“Do you often go for walks with strange women while wearing your wedding ring?” I asked.
“Fuck” he said “No. I don’t really know what the fuck I’m doing”.
“How are things at home?” I asked, feeling like a therapist.
With a sigh, James explained that he was happy at home. He loved his wife, fancied the pants off her and she was an amazing mother to their two sons.
“But she’s totally lost interest in sex” he explained “And it’s killing me. I can’t talk to anyone about it. I don’t want to cheat on her – I really want to have sex with her. But it’s been so long and I feel like I really just need sex. It’s like a primal thing. I don’t know what to do”.
“Could you talk to her about it?” I asked “Just be really honest?”.
“Oh no” he said. “I’ve tried bringing it up but it doesn’t go down well. So I’ve stopped. Hopefully it’ll only be a few more years…” he trailed off.
Since then James and I have become friends – largely because, having no links at all to his social circle – I’m the one person he can be truly honest with. From time to time he’ll download a hook-up app, or look into ‘specialist massage parlours’ when he travels with work. He’s never followed through, and he hates himself for doing it. But there is a deep need for sexual connection that he cannot turn off – and I worry that one day he will go too far.
Other men I’ve met have made their peace with this. Last year I had a brief fling with a married Argentinian man (I’m not proud) when he was travelling. He adored his three young children and his wife – but was also happy to spread his oats when the urge took him. While committed in his role as a provider for his family, his human need for connection while keeping up a gruelling work schedule proved too much.
Then there’s the former colleague of mine whose wedding I attended and who, I know, adores his wife, who recently confessed he had cheated on her several times. “That urge to chase has just never left me”, he explained.
Monogamy is, of course, a challenge. The complex tango between desire and responsibility, societal norms and wild animal urges has both attracted and frustrated us for centuries.
Yet while all these men claim there were moved by a primal demon beyond their control, the truth is none of them wanted to cheat on their wives. They just didn’t know how to talk about it.
I too have been in a position where cheating seems like an easier and more appealing option than actually having an honest conversation with your other half. That curious stage in an untended relationship where suddenly the person you know best in the world seems impossible to talk to about a topic as sensitive as sex. The idea becomes mortifying. The person you used to whisper your wildest fantasies to now feels like a maiden aunt.
We are fed a dangerous myth that if you find the right person then communication will flow, sex becomes wild all-night love-making and you will never feel lonely again. But things change – we change - over time, and we will likely need to continuously find new ways of connecting with the person our partner is becoming. When we can’t it’s likely that an outdated version of us – or them – is present.
Adulterous men have taught me one important lesson. Talking may not be sexy – but it’s always the answer. I want a relationship with true honesty and openness. No matter how messy or scary that is – it’s good to talk.
I wonder if the comments are quiet on this one because it goes way beyond sex.
Reading it, I could feel the excitement, tension, shame, loneliness and humanity in all of it, while also feeling a knot in my stomach putting myself in the wives’ position too.
It’s really about desire, connection, guilt and how difficult honesty can become inside long-term relationships.
Moving and uncomfortable at the same time, in a way that lingers with you after reading 👏🏼