Being Too Picky in Affairs

I’m way too picky in looking for a lover. I want what I want. Looks, intelligence, sexual chemistry, close location, and compatible scheduling.

The problem is that none of the guys work out.

And I’m tired of looking.

Why is looking for an affair partner so fraught with difficulty?

The “perfect” lover doesn’t exist, except in my mind.

In real life, he’s got cold feet.

“I didn’t realize how much planning this is going to take,” he texts.

Seriously?

It’s an affair. Yeah, it’s going to take coordination on an almost tactical level. Military coups take less planning.

“I am so swamped at work right now…”

Not a good sign, dude. You don’t really want this. IF you did, you would be jumping through every hoop.

Obviously, you don’t want to get laid.

I’m getting desperate, on the other hand.

When I find a man that might be checking off multiple boxes, I’m inordinately excited.

Then, “wait, you only have time during the weekdays?”

“YES. I put that in my profile. Do you remember?” I text.

Of course, he didn’t read my profile.

I should have just written, “horny morons message me.”

My “free” time interferes with 99% of most working men’s lives. And the 1% left is a little worrisome. I might be better off with a bartender or a musician at this rate. A hobo who smells nice? Who else is free during the workweek?

Or, I finally find a guy I want to meet who might be able to make hotel afternoons happen and he’s too guilty.

“I’m not sure I can do this,” one hour before we are supposed to meet for coffee.

Oh, really?

Spare me. I have zero guilt--I like fucking too much. But I’m pretty sure I am going to block you. Super sure, actually.

Nice guy. Good looking. Something must be wrong with him. I just know it. He’ll be a secret sadist.

“I want to punish you, bad girl,” he texts.

“Nope. No thanks.”

I am being punished plenty by this process of looking for a lover. Enough red flags are hoisted to make me look twice.

“Can you host?” one guy writes.

In my profile, I wrote that I could NOT host. So, why would you think that I suddenly could?

“Can’t you come over now? My wife is out of town for the weekend.”

Yes, I will come to a stranger's house and fuck you for free while your wife is away. Wait, am I a prostitute? I don’t think so. I’m not getting paid. But I am risking my life for the possibility of an orgasm. Nah. I’m good.

Last time I checked, I was respectably married.

I don’t believe how much worse it can get.

“Do you want to come out to the supermarket for some milk, and we can fool around in my car?” a potential suitor writes.

Another superlative idea. Let me go to a strangers car at night that I have never met before and I don’t know his real name and play with getting an STD. I won’t be a headline in tomorrow’s news.

“Married Woman Clandestine Encounter GONE Wrong.”

Who is this stupid?

This is why men get caught cheating far more often than women.

Lowest common denominator. Middle school math. I couldn’t do it then and I can’t do it now.

I refuse to lower my standards. I’m picky and patient. Until I get so frustrated by this search that my boxes start evaporating. What I want and what I’ll get are two vastly different things. I know what I want.

I might get what I need after all.