American Infidelity

I went into the Starbucks on Fifteenth Street and some guy wearing a Flyers jersey recognized me. He started waving like a maniac and he goes, "Hey! You're the guy from TV!" I tried to ignore him, but he came right over, got out of his place in line and everything because it was apparently important to tell me how much he enjoyed seeing my fifteen minutes of fame.

"I saw the show!" he said.

"Obviously," I told him.

"That was pretty fucked up what happened, you ok?"

"I'm good," I answered. I wasn't really in the mood to talk about it, especially before I'd had my coffee.

"Well, that was fucked up," he repeated. I couldn't disagree with him.

You're wondering what happened, right? How I turned into a Starbucks celebrity? I guess I might as well tell you. It all started with a girl, of course.

**

I met her in a Starbucks and they should pay me for saying their name so much. But, that's where I met her. Not the one on Fifteenth, but at another one over in Fishtown. I was deep in a book about Gettysburg (I like history) in one of those nice chairs they have by the window and she came over and sat in the one next to me and asked what I was reading.

I told her, and she said she liked to read about American history, too. She was pretty so I didn't shoo her away. She looked like she was on her lunch break from work the way she was dressed- blouse, skirt, heels. Dark hair that fell around her shoulders. She pulled a book out of her satchel and showed it to me - Gods and Generals by Shaara. I'd read that one, too.

We talked for a bit and I asked her if she wanted to meet for a drink sometime, because why wouldn't I? I was a single guy and she was an attractive woman. I didn't expect her to say yes, but she did and we planned to meet up that Friday. We exchanged numbers and she went back to work.

I felt good the rest of the day. I went home, did some work (I had one of those awesome jobs that lets me work from my apartment) and thought about where I should take her. I figured it would be nice to go somewhere familiar, so I texted her my suggestion of a bar in Center City. She agreed.

The date was nice. She was smart, and we had a great conversation about books, music and hockey. Those are three of my favorite things and it turned out they were hers, too. We had a lot in common. After a couple drinks (she likes mojitos) she said she had to get home because she had to be up early the next day for one reason or another. I offered to walk her, but she said she'd catch a Lyft. Before she got in the car she gave me a quick kiss and said she wanted to see me again.

We did drinks a couple times a week for just under a month. I liked this woman. I wanted to keep seeing her and she seemed to want to let me. The quick kiss from the first night turned into more, like furiously making out like teenagers in the back corner of the bar. It was great. I hadn't done anything like this in years and it felt pretty amazing.

Finally, she invited me to her place.

**

It was a Friday night in June and she told me to come over because her apartment complex had a pool and we could use it. She'd fix us some adult beverages and we could hang out and see where it led. I, personally, was hopeful that where it led would be to some nudity preferably in her bedroom, but I wasn't picky. The pool sounded like a good place to start. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't looking forward to seeing her in a swimsuit.

I got there around seven with a six pack of some craft beer I picked up on the way. She wasn't a beer drinker, but I was, and I figured tonight had the potential to be a big night for us and I wanted to indulge in that good old liquid courage to make sure I was ready, willing and able should the opportunity arise (if you know what I mean). She was waiting for me at the pool and let me in the gate. She had a towel wrapped around her and I was anxious to see what was underneath it and I got that chance a few moments later when she removed it, revealing a small pink bikini. I was suddenly ready, willing and able even without the beer.

She motioned for me to have a seat in one of the lounge chairs that flanked the pool. She took the one next to me, and I saw that she had a bucket of ice, a bottle of vodka and some sort of mixer. She made herself a drink, I popped a beer and we sat back and relaxed. I took off my shirt and shoes, leaving me in just my swim trunks - the kind with the flowery Hawaiian print. We talked for a bit, ruminating over the season that we were expecting the Flyers to have and about the recent Guns n' Roses reunion tour that I hadn't bothered to attend and then she asked me if I'd rub lotion on her back.

I said yes, obviously.

Let me tell ya, smearing suntan lotion on a gorgeous woman's back is an experience every guy should have. I spent about ten minutes making sure I didn't miss a spot and the whole time thinking about how lucky I was that this woman had showed any interest in me in the first place. My track record with women has been spotty at best over the years which made me feel like this were some sort of mistake and at any minute she'd realize that she hadn't been wearing her glasses for the past few weeks, put them on and run screaming.

But she didn't. Instead she asked me to put the lotion on her in the area immediately below her back. I won't go into any great description here, because I'm a gentleman, but needless to say I enjoyed it so when she turned over and removed her bikini top and asked me to do her front I almost passed out.

I had barely begun when she pulled me forward and kissed me. Deeply. My whole body shuddered with apprehension and excitement. She ran her hands down my back as I moved in closer and began to slide my trunks down, further and further until I was able to just kick them off. She told me to get up, and I did. She slid down her bikini bottoms as well and were both naked as they day we were born, outside in a public place. I didn't care at all.

We were standing next to the pool, naked and locked in an embrace, when they showed up. I didn't see them at first (I was otherwise occupied) but she did, and pulled away to cover herself. I looked and saw there was a line of cars, all of them black, being led by one of those FBI-style SUVs. They stopped and the doors on all of them opened pretty much simultaneously. I ran to grab my trunks, which had flown a pretty good distance after I kicked them off, but tripped over one of the lounge chairs causing myself to fall face first toward the concrete deck. I managed to break my fall with my hands which hurt a bit, but before I could get to my shorts a flock of people had descended upon us, and they had cameras.

Video cameras, regular cameras, boom microphones, all that shit that they make movies with. What in the Hell was happening? A man in a suit, shouting -

"Who are you? How do you know this woman?"

I wanted to yell, "How do you think I know her, asshole? We're both naked by the pool. This sure ain't a tennis lesson," but all that came out of my mouth was, "What?"

Suit Man came over to where I had not yet gotten back to my feet and shoved a microphone in my face. A camera man followed, apparently filming this display.

"I'm Mike Burns from American Infidelity, and you've just been caught cheating!" he informed me as I was trying to cover up the Little Guy from view. I stood up, hands over my crotch.

"American what?" I asked, completely confused.

"American Infidelity. How does it feel to be the 'other man'?" he asked sticking his mic back at me.

"Other than what?" I returned, not having a clue as to what he was talking about.

"We've been following you for two weeks. Did you know them woman you've been seeing is married?"

I looked to see if I could see her. Married? What? They'd obviously gotten the wrong address. Either that or this was one of those guys from the show where they play hidden camera pranks.

Suddenly there was a large man in khakis and a polo shirt charging toward me. I didn't see him coming right away because I was otherwise preoccupied with the situation at hand, so he was able to barrel into me and we both went backward - straight into the pool. Next thing I knew I was underwater and I could feel his hands trying to grab me, and when we resurfaced he punched me square in the nose.

"What the fuck, man?" I yelled at him.

"You've been doing my wife!" He raised his fist to hit me again, but I ducked back down under the water and started to swim away. I needed to get out, and at least get to my trunks. I got to the other end of the pool and climbed out, cameras flashing, people shouting, a woman crying - my date, of course. I could see her back by our lounge chairs, wrapped in her towel and sobbing. Meanwhile, my nose is spurting out blood like Vesuvius and I had nothing to stop it with.

Wait - Married?

Footsteps behind me and I felt myself being tackled from behind. Down I went, again, this time my knees scraping on the cement. I struggled to get him off me, sending an elbow toward his face. It connected and he let go.

"Dude, get away from me!" I shouted at him, cupping my hands over my face to give a place for the blood to pool, "I don't even know who you are!"

"You apparently know his wife, though, don't you? What do you have to say for yourself?" that Burns guy was back, accosting me with his microphone. I had a mind to take that microphone and stick it up his-

I saw my trunks. They were just an arm's reach away and I grabbed them. I got up and ran away, trying to find a spot to get dressed where I wouldn't be accosted, or filmed. Naked, bleeding and being chased around a pool is not how I wanted to be remembered. I made it to the other end where I was able to step into them, slip them over my legs and finally cover up the Little Guy and finally felt some semblance of relief. I looked around, trying to get my bearings and I saw that the film crew was huddled around my lady and my assailant. He was shouting, she was crying, my beer was spilling onto the deck. I just needed to get back there, grab the rest of my stuff (and a damned towel for my face) and hightail it back home.

I snuck over to where my clothes were - and by 'snuck' I mean padded wetly trying to maintain as low a profile as I could in this situation - and grabbed my shirt. I used it to wipe the blood from not only my face, but my chest and hands. I finished getting dressed, and while I was sitting there on the lounger pondering my next move in life, Burns came back over to me. He wanted to ask a few more questions.

"How does it feel to be outed?" he asked.

"Outed?" I spat back at him, "I was on a date. I didn't know she was fucking married. Can I go home now?"

He nodded.

"I need you to sign a waiver allowing us to run the footage on out program, American Infidelity," he said, shoving a piece of paper at me. I took it.

"Hell, no," I said, incredulously.

"$500 for the rights," he answered. I took a pen from him and signed.

I looked over at the lovely lady who'd gotten me into this. She was locked in an embrace with the guy who was apparently her husband- an embrace not entirely different than they one I'd had with her before being rudely interrupted. I shook my head.

"Can we get a final thought from you?" Suit Man asked.

"Yeah, dating sucks," I told him.