Then another tomorrow passed.
And another.
Eventually, I stopped trying.
Worse, I began to hate myself.
When I changed clothes, I stopped looking in the mirror.
I started thinking that this part of my life as a woman was simply over.
Until I met Eric.
He was thirty-four.
I was at a bar with a friend when I noticed him looking at me.
At first, I actually turned around to see whether there was another woman behind me.
There wasn’t.
He was looking at me.
A few minutes later, he came over.
“Can I buy you a drink?”
I laughed.
“I’m old enough to be your mother.”
He didn’t even blink.
“I’m not looking at your age.”
That one sentence stayed in my head for days.
Eric gave me his number.
I promised myself I would never use it.
I lasted three days.
On the fourth, I sent one word.
“Hi.”
That one word became the most dangerous word in my marriage.
At first, we only talked.
Then he started telling me I was beautiful.
When I sent him a photo, he never said, “You look great for your age.”
He simply said:
“You’re beautiful.”
I started wearing makeup again.
I bought a new dress.
A new perfume.
And most dangerously of all, I started waiting for his messages.
One night Eric wrote:
“I want to see you. Alone.”
I knew exactly what he meant.
I put down my phone.
Robert was sitting just a few feet away from me.
I looked at his gray hair, his tired face, the hands I had held for almost four decades.
And I thought:
No. I’m not going to do this.
That night, I tried one last time.
I moved closer to Robert in bed.
I rested my head against his chest.
I kissed him.
He gently pulled away.
“Linda, please. I’m really tired tonight.”
Something inside me broke.
Two days later, I was standing inside a hotel elevator.
I was wearing a dark dress.
Underneath it was the same red lingerie my husband had barely noticed.
My hands were trembling when I reached Eric’s room.
I nearly turned around.
Then the door opened.
Eric looked at me for several long seconds.
“Wow…”
Just one word.
But suddenly, I felt like a woman again.
I could still have left.
I should have left.
But I didn’t.
When he kissed me, I stopped thinking about Robert.
I stopped thinking about my age.
I stopped thinking about what morning would bring.
For those few hours, I wanted to forget everything.
The night was passionate, reckless, almost overwhelming for a woman who had spent years forgetting what it felt like to be wanted.
I laughed more than I had in months.
Eric kept telling me I was beautiful.
“Stop,” I whispered, almost embarrassed.
“Why?” he asked. “Because your husband forgot to tell you?”
Those words hurt.
But at the same time, they pulled me even closer to him.
At one point, Eric kissed the side of my neck much harder than I expected.
I flinched and pulled back.
“Easy.”
He immediately stopped.
“Did I hurt you?”
“No… it was just a little too hard.”
We even laughed about it.
At the time, it seemed like nothing.
I had no idea that only minutes later, the entire night would end in panic.
I got up to get some water.
I took two steps.
Suddenly, a strange ringing filled my ears.
The room seemed to tilt.
“Eric…”
He turned.
“Linda?”
I reached for my neck.
Then my legs gave out.
Everything went black.
The next thing I remember was the steady beeping of a hospital monitor.
I opened my eyes.
