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It’s a little passed midnight and a Thursday has just evolved into a Friday.  I barely got home, changed into my winter-style warm-n-fuzzy flannel pj’s and exhaled my unprocessed anger…  I am mad!  I’m pissed!  In the very least – I am disappointed.  And it’s one of those cases when technically I have no reason to be.  Yet I am.


I’m in between shooting days.  One day down, three to go.  And those remaining three managed to crumble into the upcoming 48 hours.  My week is packed.   Naturally, there are lots of people around.  They perform different jobs and they come from different countries, some of them I like, some of them I find adorable – like my Belgium agency lady who is beyond sweet! – some of them irritate me…  And all of them are my clients and I have to be respectful and fair.


As you can very well imagine, some – are men.  And some of the “some” appreciate me for more than my articulate production skills.  It happens to me rather often so I can tell the difference.  When free of their immediate tasks, they tend to wander the set in my direction; they touch me when it’s not exactly required by their professional performance, e.g. push my side with an elbow and wink; they talk to me times more than to any other local crew member and they stand much closer while at it; and they have managed to learn half of my life’s history by asking loads of multiple choice questions…  You know this stuff…


Now, you always know the answer too, right?  It doesn’t take reasoning, it doesn’t take scheming.  It’s a true or false in a matter of seconds.  You don’t choose it – it chooses you.  If you’re attracted to somebody – you know it immediately.  This current case, Colombo, is no exception.  I’ve realized I’m liking one of the two three minutes after I met him.  Was I going to act upon it?  Maybe.  If the situation was favorable.  Why not after all?


A wrap-of-the-shooting-day-meal later the guy seemed enchanted by yours truly non-stoppable yapping on the account of soviet past, post-soviet present and a bulk of madness in between.  He was gazing and chatting and smiling…  He was pretty much cooked.  …I was slightly baked myself, allured by his visible interest.  It was a nearly perfect verbal foreplay…  and then as a part of the conversation, out of the blue, like it had nothing to do with anything he said “my wife”… 


…And ”my wife” bomb exploded in my head!  Instantly I was SO angry…  Any thoughts of perhaps spending this (or some other) night with the guy were done with right then and there.  He was CROSSED OUT.


And I couldn’t figure it out – why?  What’s wrong?  I’ve been craving sex; I’ve been needing somebody to hold me, not to marry me!   Even if he were the most single creature on the planet, I wouldn’t hope as much as to see him again… So what the hell is my problem?  A married guy can’t help being attracted to me, he’s not bullshitting me and when the conversation turns accordingly, he informs me of having a wife…  What reason, what right do I have to be pissed?  Why is it perfectly fine if a bachelor dude seduces me, with nothing but sex on his mind, yet sleeping with a married guy who is drawn to me is for some reason offensive?


I’ve tried my usual deduction method but it’s been no use.  I do realize that we all crave love even when we claim it’s only sex that we need.  And when the love is already reserved for somebody else and there’s no chance to earn it, we feel cheated – how can it be expected of us to share our body, if the heart in question is out of the circulation?  It’s like paying a hooker for a blowjob – the process is relatively the same, but there’s no question about her WANTING to do it…


Now I’m not pretending all extramarital sex is “evil”.  There are a number of cases when I’ll even support the cheater.  Special sexual needs that the partner refuses to fulfill, physical deprivation as a part of twisted mind games, rapid libido decline…  I hold a strong belief that a sexual act with a prostitute can’t be viewed as a betrayal either – it is a professional service, requested and paid for.  The “cheated” party should rather question what unrealized needs brought the lover to the decision to part with a large amount of cash and dignity.


Yet I still don’t understand what repulses me about married men.  I don’t mind all sorts of single men.  I’ve been with a number of “committed” men, which is rather close, right?  So what the hell is out of place here?  Maybe this:  you pretend you can stick around the same person for the rest of your life (or at least for the foreseeable future)… and you’re openly hitting on me?  YOU are hitting on me!  You’re not being seduced or forced, I haven’t drugged you and zipped your fly open!  It was your move… So why the fuck did you marry the poor mary you could have so easily been cheating on while still dating?  What up with all the lying???

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