This all happened a couple of years ago when I was working in a small grocery store in town. My shift manager, Mandy, and I had been working together for about three years at the time. Although we’d often be quite flirtatious and often used to try and shock each other with our open talks about sexual matters, nothing had ever happened between us, and I had assumed it never would. Although I would occasionally fantasise about having some kind of sexual encounter with her, I assumed that she was happily married and I’ve never been the kind of guy to get involved with all the drama and conflict that getting involved with a married woman can entail.
Her husband played with a local rugby team and occasionally travelled abroad for tournaments without her. It was on one of these occasions, it transpired, that he apparently cheated on her. I’m not sure if he had confessed or if she had found out from someone else, but she seemed utterly devastated by the betrayal. I felt really sorry for her. She was clearly trying hard to get over it, but was finding it impossible to forgive him. She would frequently talk about how much she hated him and how she couldn’t imagine their marriage ever recovering from it. I felt kind of hopeless as a friend, because it was one of those situations that could never be put right. All I could do was lend a sympathetic ear.