A few nights later, Jamie told me he was in love with me. I answered, truthfully, that I didn't know what to do, but I wanted to keep on seeing him. The late nights and weekends in TV work meant it was easy to keep things secret. We never texted, we arranged everything in person - evenings in hotels, or at his odd, Bohemian house, lunchtimes spent frantically kissing. I didn't know how it would end, I just wanted the madness to go on.
But if course, it didn't, for the most serious of reasons - I discovered I was pregnant. Jamie and I had been obsessively careful. But I'd come off the Pill, and Stephen and I hadn't been using anything, on the basis that it might take a while to get pregnant. The stupid, romantic part of me was crushed that I wasn't carrying Jamie's child, which would have solved the dilemma for me, but I knew Stephen was far better equipped for fatherhood.
I had to tell Jamie it was over. He was devastated, and even offered to raise the baby with me, but I couldn't do that to Stephen.
I gambled my marriage on an old flame
Jamie left the production, citing family reasons, and cut off all contact. He did the right thing, but I ached with misery. I passed it off to Stephen as pregnancy blues - he was very supportive, and thrilled about the baby. After Adam was born, I suffered post-natal depression. When he was three months old, I cracked.
I'd been crying all day, and when Stephen begged me to tell him what was wrong, I told him everything. He was shocked and deeply hurt, but couldn't bear to leave us. In the end, I promised him I'd stick with him - he was a wonderful dad.
Stephen told himself I'd needed a fling, because we were so young when we met; and over time, he gradually forgave me. We had another baby, Lyla, and I tried to put Jamie out of my mind. I did dream about him sometimes, and when I Stephen and I argued, I thought about what could have been, but I reminded myself that I couldn't risk our family. I went back to work part time, and Stephen was promoted. I sometimes heard news about Jamie on the grapevine - he was successful, wasn't married - but we hadn't seen each other in 14 years when I was booked to work on a new TV adaptation, and I saw his name on the list of crew.
The first day on set, I realised my feelings hadn't changed. He was older, greyer, but still made my heart pound. He asked me for a drink, 'to catch up', and the attraction was like a wrecking ball. By the time we split, my year-old brain was viewing life in high definition. I wanted a family. We reached an impasse. I married, bore three children and spent most days with a toddler attached at the hip — or more often the knee because both hands are full. Instead, I treasure the time we spent together.
Old Flames: Are We Playing With Fire? | HuffPost Life
I still love Ben, for the role he played in my story. The experiences we shared together, and even how we separated, stay with me in a positive and healthy way and they helped form the person I am today. Most people have a lost love they wonder about. Someone who held your hand through transformative moments and helped you define you. According to psychologist Nancy Kalish, professor emeritus at California State University, Sacramento, when social media collides with a generally happy marriage, the results can be disastrous.
Your Brain's Response to Your Ex, According to Neuroscience
So before you follow an ex on Twitter, send them a Facebook message or stalk them on Instagram, consider two big factors: And if not, are you prepared to let reconnecting with your ex devastate your current relationship? By Amy Paturel Thursday, January 03, He sent texts, letters, roses, and initiated countless hang-up calls. When Reconnecting Makes Sense. You might also like. Actually, it's Just Contagious. Nouns to Blame for Sputtered Speech.
1. Do Some Reconnaissance Work
When Does Hungry Become Hangry? I said I was asking for a friend but I'm sure they are all smart enough to know I was asking for me. Old Flame is my college boyfriend. Our relationship lasted several years, through college and both of us taking different paths afterwards: We did the long-distance thing for several months before I decided to end it, citing the difficulties of keeping love alive with thousands of miles between us. And that was that, until a couple decades later when social media invaded our lives. A lot had happened during those years: Being a flight attendant wasn't the thrill I'd expected, and I moved back to Minnesota where I settled on a career in retail.
I'd been married for 13 years, had four children and gone through a harrowing divorce which made life very interesting for a while. He'd waited longer, finally settling down in a neighboring Minneapolis suburb with his wife and young children.
He sent me a friend request on Facebook a few years ago and on occasion, we exchanged messages. Nothing flirtatious, nothing scandalous. Lots of laughing about old times, old jokes. Sometimes our talks went late into the evening, though. A cocktail or two would be had, and memories would bubble up to the surface, some of them still tender even after the passage of so much time. One recent chat turned into an exchange of YouTube videos of songs that reminded us of each other. During a recent conversation, he suggested meeting for lunch somewhere, to catch up.
In my naive mind, it was no big thing. We even joked about how different we look now. But I have a habit of being blissfully oblivious as to what constitutes a societal no-no. I should check with some of my single people. I was being vague with my readers because I'm pretty sure Old Flame reads my blog and I didn't want to be rude. Also, I'm a Minnesotan who is also a Libra and terrified of offending people.
Regardless of intentions, no matter how innocent it may seem, most of my awesome readers felt it was a terrible, no good, very bad idea. We ended up not meeting, and communication has dwindled. Which is probably a good thing, right?