Stolen Moments, Moving Hearts

My relationships with them lasted for two years, and at that time, what I wanted was sex—hot, steamy, mind-blowing sex—not a serious relationship. This can get complicated because it’s not always easy to handle and control emotional attachments when there’s chemistry, but I assumed that the fact these men had wives, children, and financial obligations would keep emotions from spilling over. Luckily, I was right. They didn’t get too attached, and neither did I, although there were a few I found more attractive than I expected, hahahaha. We knew there wouldn’t be any surprises or Pandora’s boxes to open.

I chose carefully. My “Romeo” wasn’t supposed to be interested in leaving his wife or changing the life they had built together. In many cases, the men I met were married to women who suffered from health problems like menopause, cysts, or fibroids and could no longer have sex. Still, their husbands remained faithful. A romance or the desire for one can be the beginning of a necessary conversation about sex and intimacy.

During that exciting time in my life, I contacted a dozen men and slept with less than half of them. With the rest, we exchanged messages or chatted, which sometimes led to a similar level of intimacy. Many men just wanted to be heard and express their family and sexual frustrations, seeking a little affection.

Before seeing a married man, I always asked, “Why are you doing this?” I needed assurances that all they wanted was sex. What surprised me was that these husbands weren’t looking for more sex. They were just looking for sex, that’s all.

I met a man named Xavier, a successful businessman from southern Madrid whose wife had implicitly agreed that he could have a lover, though he secretly wished to have a male lover because she no longer showed interest in sex. They both got what they needed without having to abandon what they wanted.

However, all the husbands I met would have preferred to have sex with other men. And the reason was simple: fear of being themselves and fully enjoying their true identity. I know what it feels like to lose the desire for sex, but I also know what it’s like to have more desire than my partner. For them, it may be a lot to ask to sleep with the same person for more years than our ancestors ever imagined living, especially when our sexual inclinations lead us toward the forbidden, like a bite of the forbidden apple. Also, menopause causes women’s hormones to drop dramatically, and the lack of sexual intimacy pushes many of these men to seek comfort in the arms of another man.

At 42, I’m at the peak of my sexual desire, and I take care of my needs. Men don’t experience such drastic hormonal changes. So we have an imbalance, a major issue, so heavy and sometimes shameful that we can barely muster the courage to talk about it. Maybe the reason many wives don’t want sex with their husbands anymore is that over time, women crave a different kind of sex, or they realize their husbands’ true sexual preference, or the monotony and coldness of marriage extinguish mutual desires. At least that was my experience, and it led me down this path of clandestine encounters. After all, the number of men and women who have love affairs is nearly the same.

Over the years, observing the marriages of friends and coworkers, I learned that for many wives, sex outside marriage is a way to break free from the role of “responsible” wives and mothers they must play at home. Intimacy within marriage, for them, often becomes an obligation, a heavy yoke. An affair is an adventure. Meanwhile, the “heterosexual” husbands I met wouldn’t have had any problem with obligatory sex. 

The adventure, for them, wasn’t what motivated them to commit adultery. The first time I saw my favorite married man lift his glass of wine, the sleeve of his tailor-made suit rolled up, revealing a geometric kaleidoscope of tattoos. He was an educated, successful man with sweet speech, a great physique, and a finely shaved beard hiding a muffled scream of rebellion. That night, as we drank Nebbiolo and listened to Lenny Kravitz, we did it, and we did it well. We also talked.

I asked him, “If you told your wife, ‘Look, I love you and the kids, but I need sex in my life, with a man. Can I have an occasional affair without affecting our relationship?’” In response, he sighed and said, “I don’t want to hurt her. She’s given me everything. She hasn’t worked for seven years, raising our kids and trying to figure out what she wants to do with her life. If I asked her that question, she’d feel betrayed because she has no idea who I really am. I’ve hidden my sexuality my whole life, and I’ve fulfilled my role as a man in society, my career, my marriage, and my family.”

“So, you don’t want to hurt her, but instead, you lie to her. Personally, I’d rather know, but I’m not a woman, and I haven’t made vows at an altar. Well, maybe I’d prefer to know. I’ve never been married, though I’ve had relationships with women, so I have trouble putting myself in her shoes.”

“It’s not necessarily a lie if you don’t confess the truth,” he said. “It’s kinder to remain silent. What I’m saying is that I couldn’t do that. I don’t want to be afraid to speak honestly about my sexual life with the person I married, and that includes at least being able to discuss sex outside marriage. Good luck with that! We married assuming we’d be monogamous, but then we feel uneasy. We don’t want to separate, but we need to feel sexually alive. Why separate if we can accept an occasional affair, even in secret?” He laughed. “What if we stop talking about it before this affair stops being fun?”

I never convinced any married man to be honest about what he was doing. However, most of them spoke about it willingly, like a patient father answering a curious child’s questions: “Why, why, why?” Maybe I was being too pragmatic about topics that carry great weight due to guilt, resentment, or fear. It’s true that it’s much easier to talk theoretically about marriage than to live it. However, my attitude is that if my partner needed something I couldn’t provide, I wouldn’t prevent him from finding it elsewhere, as long as it didn’t put our family at risk. The affair, for them, wasn’t what motivated them to commit adultery.

I suppose I wish their needs were based more on fishing trips, watching a football match, or nights with friends drinking whatever spirit lights their heads, but sex is essential, and even more so when it’s responded to with desire and passion. Physical intimacy with other human beings is vital for our health and well-being. So, how can we deny such a basic need to the person who matters most to us? If our primary relationship nourishes and stabilizes us, but we lack intimacy, should we really destroy the marriage to get it elsewhere?

I didn’t have a passionate affair with my tattooed man. We slept together a few times over a couple of years. We spoke more on Telegram. I never felt possessive, just curious and happy to be in his company. His perfume was always an enticing presence that made me feel aroused when I was around him. However, after our second night together, I realized that for him, it was much more than sex; he longed for affection, love, closeness, and someone to listen to him. 

He said he wanted to get closer to his wife, that he loved her but didn’t desire her, but they couldn’t overcome the fundamental disconnection: the lack of sex. The absence of intimacy only fed resentment and guilt for desiring another man. We all go through phases of wanting and not wanting. I’m not blaming the wives for their husbands’ infidelity. I doubt most women avoid sex with their husbands due to a general lack of physical desire; we’re just more complex sexual beings.

That’s why men can get an erection with a pill, but there’s still no way to chemically induce excitement and desire in women. I’m also not saying the solution is to abandon monogamy. That could bring risks and complications.

I believe the answer lies in honesty and dialogue, no matter how difficult it is to be truthful with ourselves and others. The lack of sex in marriage is common and shouldn’t lead to shame or silence. Similarly, an affair shouldn’t be the end of the marriage. In the best-case scenario, it could be an opportunity to explore the relationship from a more honest place, so each party can reconsider what they need to be happy.

Ultimately, the stories shared here reveal my profound human need for connection, intimacy, and authenticity. They challenge us to reconsider the rigid structures we often impose on love and relationships, and to question the societal pressures that force individuals into lives of secrecy and compromise. 

While the path to genuine fulfillment may be fraught with ethical dilemmas and emotional complexities, the conversation itself is a vital step toward a more honest and compassionate understanding of ourselves and others. 

Perhaps, instead of judgment, we can strive for empathy, recognizing that the search for love and acceptance is a universal human experience, even when it unfolds in the shadows. And maybe, in the end, true fidelity lies not in rigid adherence to societal norms, but in the courage to seek and speak one’s truth, however difficult that may be.

With love, Omar