In a perfect world, on a perfect street, in a perfect dwelling, complete with ten disgustingly huge rooms, an authentic Batcave and a state-of-the-art movie theater where you don’t have to take out a loan to get popcorn, each of us would be ridiculously content with our made-to-order soul mate and the mere thought of of straying would be repugnant to us.
But that’s not the world we live in, boys and girls.
In our world, a man checks into a hotel after the sun has exited the stage and long shadows dominate. After slipping the valet an extra twenty to keep his truck hidden but readily accessible, he uses a specific credit card to pay for the room, tucking it back in his wallet, he pauses to glance briefly at a photo of a woman in a wedding gown.
He traverses the hotel corridors in an instant, desperate to breach the door separating him from his forbidden delight. After an eternity, a plastic card is inserted, a green light shines and a door swings open; a rawboned bleached blond dreamboat greets him with a familiar smile and as Glenn Frey famously crooned “She rushes to his arms, they fall together”.
In the Eagles song, the deceiving female “whispers that it’s only for awhile. She swears that soon she’ll be comin’ back forever.” In this case, the man expresses his regret at his limited window of opportunity. He then asks if his partner-in-carnal-crime has taken the necessary precautions. “I used the card you gave me to book the room, but in my name, so even if She calls here looking, she won’t find us. No one will ever know.” is her vainglorious response.
Unfortunately for this deceitful duo, the threadlike mistress is as wrong as a 17-year-old Pattie Mallette when she ignored the advice of everyone around her to terminate her pregnancy and instead unleashed the biological weapon of mass destruction that is her lesbian-in-a-scrawny-boy’s-body-progeny known the world over as Justin Bieber.
As you’ve no doubt surmised by now, this chapter was inspired by a young couple I encountered a decade ago, both of whom were friendly, outgoing, generous… and married to other people. Their affair unfolded before my eyes once every two weeks for a year. And as you can tell by now, they grew pretty comfortable in my presence. Of course, as you know, I’m virtually invisible to most guests, which works out perfectly when you’re writing a book and blog.
But back to the Deceitful Duo, he was a young, well-mannered, generous, intelligent, good-looking, Dukes of Hazard-era John Schneider clone (I can say that without feeling my sexuality diminish… much) guy who owned his own construction business and she… was the tall, thin, rocker-chick blonde who was sleeping with him. Honestly, this girl meant well but she was one of those impossibly beautiful creatures who made it through school – and life in general – by looking pretty and smelling like jasmine, lotus blossoms, rainbows and sex. She’d always arrive first and have us park her Honda that was 90% rust and 10% duct tape. (Seriously.) Another fun fact: Her car was overloaded with school books, coffee cups, food wrappers, lingerie and sex toys.
She was a real fun gal, no question. And she gave magnificent quote.
“I’m really drunk, Mr. Bellguy! Think I can sober up before my boyfriend arrives in ten minutes? I don’t want to blow chunks on him again!”
“My husband doesn’t care about my education, so boyfriend’s putting me through school. And I’m putting him through my cootchie.”
(Sounds like a fair deal to me.)
“I know it’s late but would you happen to have some “D” batteries? I recently purchased a new toy and my boyfriend is dying to see it in action! And he wants me to use it on him! Guys like that, don’t they?
“I forgot the handcuffs, but scotch tape should work, right?”
“Can you park my car? I know there is shit everywhere but between school and my marriage, there’s barely enough time to shop for naughty lingerie, new toys and blow jobs! What’s a girl to do?”
” I feel I can trust you so I’m going to tell you something, Mr. Bellman… my boyfriend and I are married.. but not to each other! I guess that’s why the sex is so good?'”
(To be clear, she had told me five times by that point. And she was sober every time.)
Fittingly, one of her favorite songs was Escape (The Piña Colada Song). You could hear it blasting from her crappy car stereo every time she pulled up on deck.
BLONDE, CHEATIN’ ROCKER: Don’t you just LOVE this song to death, Mr. Bellguy?
ME: Absolutely. I have to be revived every time I listen to it. It can be a bit of a hassle, to be honest.
Not surprisingly, my humor went right over her head. Of course, that must happen a lot when a girl spends most of her time on her knees, but that’s neither here nor there, I suppose.
BCR: I don’t get it, but you’re funny! I love this song because it makes me giggle like a little girl!
ME: Why? (I knew I’d regret it, but what the the hell?)
BCR: (Giggling… of course.) It always sounds like “penis colada” to me! I still LOVE that song though!
ME: I suppose I should have seen that coming, but getting back to your love of the song, everyone loves it. It’s one of those guilty pleasure songs that people adore despite the lyrics.
BCR: What about the lyrics? Isn’t the song about alcoholics in California?
ME: (Stifling my urge to simultaneously laugh and roll my eyes at nature’s sense of humor.) Actually, the song is about a man who is bored with his current relationship –
I had to stop myself for a moment as the color ran away from her face. Fortunately, she perked back up instantly. The good thing about stupid people is they don’t stay offended for long. I continued.
ME: One night, he reads the personal ads and spots one about a woman who is seeking a man who, among other things, must like piña coladas. He writes back and arranges to meet the woman “at a bar called O’Malley’s”, only to find that the woman is actually his wife. They stay together despite the fact neither one is trustworthy or committed to their monogamy.
BCR: That’s my favorite part!
ME: Of course it is.
Getting back to her second relationship, their forbidden “romance” was every bit as stereotypical as it could be. I observed them on more than one occasion; their hunger for one another was ravenous. But that’s the way it works with cheaters; they seek out passion, danger, or whatever aspect is missing from their individual unions. Unfortunately, the hottest flame burns the briefest.
Winter, summer, spring and fall, these two forbidden lovers did it all. And I watched it all unfold, from a discreet distance, of course – until the story took on a decidedly different dimension.
My “friends” stopped visiting the hotel after BCR’s beau informed me they were taking their liaison in an unexpected and unconventional direction… he introduced her to his parents.
I can only assume this meant they were going “legit”, but who knows? Perhaps his creators were equally loopy. Either that, or the affair burned out after it lost its spark. Nothing sucks the illicit joy out of a forbidden romance faster than domestication.
Or so I’ve been told.
See you in the lobby, kids…