4. 5 o'clock in the morning

Now I knew I was in trouble, we’d gone beyond the point of pure friendship and this was me, out on the town with a man who’s not my boyfriend until 5 o’clock in the morning.

During those few hours on a random Wednesday night, we talked and discussed and argued and analysed and dreamed and wondered and explored and had the most frank conversation of our lives. We covered our pasts and our ideals, religion, death, family, marriage, sex, friends, personality, education, money, children, interests, lifestyle and everything else that matters and does not matter at all.

It’s hard to put into words what really happened while this conversation took place.

How can I explain the feeling of finding someone who doesn’t know you that well but who knows what you feel by the twitch of your eyebrow. Someone who listens, who patiently hears out your whole long tirade, even if he doesn’t agree with your viewpoint? How do I illustrate what happens at the centre of your being when you show someone your worst characteristics and secret disappointments and he finds it beautiful and sad and that it fits in perfectly with his strengths and determinations?

My heart crumbled.

I felt so understood, I felt visible. I felt so beautiful and intelligent and interesting and true to myself. I was honestly not pretending anything or covering any rough spots with smooth lies. I was really just being me, and being appreciated for exactly who I was.

And him? Ah. The Beautiful Boy was bold and honest and forthright and funny and cocky and understanding and self-assured and sensitive and he can talk for hours like a girl! He claims it’s because he read Cosmopolitan when he was a young boy… My boys will certainly grow up on a diet of women’s magazines if that is true!

After much debate and laughter and moments that lasted for aeons, we faced one little last issue. Where the hell do we go from here?! There was no answer to this million-dollar question. He didn’t force one from me.

Before I finally got out of his car, I’ll confess I did lean over to kiss him. He turned his cheek and gave me a big hug instead. I felt foolish, but relieved. If everything we thought we felt that night was real, and this was going to be something more than what it could right then, I wouldn’t want it to start with infidelity.