Introducing: Mr. Married

Crushing with Mr. Married 

Charm doesn’t come with a disclaimer…

I want to start off by making one thing clear: I would never give married men the time of day. In fact, there’s no faster way to turn me off than a man hitting on me with a ring on his finger. Not a single part of me was interested in being the other woman or taking someone else’s man. It just wasn’t something I would ever be open to.

Enter Mr. Married. 

I started going to a new gym that he had been going to since they opened. He was friends with the owner, who I’d been introduced to recently and brought me into the gym. I started going daily, sometimes twice a day. Mr. Married and I didn’t overlap much at first, but he started coming at the same time as me more regularly. 

The first time I really noticed him, I felt it. His presence carried weight. There was something in his energy, the way he carried himself, his poise. Tall, tattooed, charming, and French. He had an aura that was impossible to ignore.

There were some synchronistic moments of coincidence: we had the same gym shoes, we knew the same people, we were part of the same members only clubs. I started seeing this guy everywhere.

Sometimes the universe does that. Once you’re introduced to someone they just pop up everywhere. Like your energies align on the same frequency.

I found myself increasingly aware of him. I’d catch him checking me out. The look on his face was always one of admiration more than the sleazy looks I usually filtered out from guys. The way he looked at me sparked curiosity. 

Without getting too far into my backstory or any details that may compromise my anonymity, a bit of context may be helpful. I am not a celebrity. I am, however, known among some circles and in some spaces. My career has put me in a very small spotlight at times. Very small. Microscopic. Sometimes, I run into people who know who I am despite us never meeting.

That said, I didn’t expect him to be one of those people. 

I didn’t know it, but when I started going to this gym he instantly recognized me.

So his looks of admiration were genuine. He was excited to share in my routine and learn about the person behind the public(ish) face. 

It had been a while since I’d had a crush on someone. That airy lightness whenever they’re near. The quiet thrill of hoping to cross paths and share a moment of unspoken knowing. There’s something almost magical about it, and for a little while, he brought that magic to my days. 

I’d never seen him wear a wedding ring, no mention of a wife. I’d even run into him on a first date with a woman a few weeks earlier. This man was as single as they come. Or so I thought. 

He was a film producer and I had an idea for a project that I wasn’t sure had legs or not. I wanted to talk to someone I knew would be straight up with me. And I knew he would. He was direct to a fault. So I told him about it and asked if I could pick his brain. He suggested drinks.

When we met up for drinks we did talk about my project but it also became clear there was an energy between us. 

It wasn’t until he started asking me questions about things I hadn’t shared that I realized he knew more about me than I’d thought. Was I having drinks with a fan? That idea had never even crossed my mind. What a strange notion. 

He was cool though. And not weird about it. Just a fan of the industry I worked in and the small career I’d had. He was in the same circles as me so it didn’t feel like he had any voyeuristic angle where he was trying to get close to me to become an insider. He just had a boyish excitement about the space I worked in, which was my entire life. So, there was something endearing about it. He was genuinely excited about everything I did. 

It was sweet. 

He had his own cool stuff going on too. And was more than happy to answer any questions I had about his world, which I was trying to get into. I had no idea what I was doing in the film industry but felt like my project could be really successful with the right guidance. He gave that freely. 

That night we shut down the bar. Just talked for hours and hours. Circling between my project, vibing on random tangents, and back again. 

He told me a story about being too high to function on a red carpet and even pulled up a picture. I almost choked on my drink laughing at the sight of his glazed over eyes and THC flooded grin. Imagining him doing press in that state took me out. In return, I told him about the time I took an edible at a work event, thinking it would hit after I’d left. Only, I got held up, forcing me to finish the last hour trying to remember how to breathe.

Stupid shit. Stories we’d buried but somehow found space for with each other. There was something nostalgic in it. Remembering the silly parts of life that make it more fun with someone who could appreciate them too. 

It was natural and comfortable and I felt so at ease with him. 

What started as a fun gym crush turned into a mutual appreciation. He was the kind of person I could just hang with, whether or not it led to anything more. Good company. Effortless to be around. We were made of the same stuff.

Soon after our first drinks together, we followed each other on Instagram. 

He mostly posted about work so I had to scroll back a bit to find any pictures of him and, when I did, noticed something that made my stomach turn. 

He was wearing a wedding ring. 

I zoomed in. I had to be seeing it wrong. 

Double-checked the hand. The finger. Made sure the photo wasn’t flipped or playing tricks on me. 

There was no denying the reality of what I was looking at: a 24k gold band on this man’s hand. 

He had mentioned a “long-term ex” during drinks, but I hadn’t pressed. 

I wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt. He was so direct and there was something undeniable between us. Surely he wouldn’t be hiding a wife. 

Would he? 

Every Mister is part of a bigger picture. If you’re new, here’s why I started opening my diary: Why Write This?