“I’m the CEO of a big company,” his message to me read.
We spent many lunch hours discussing our interactions with him and laughing over what we’d do if we ever found ourselves alone with him in the backseat of his silver SUV, parked in a dark corner of the company’s underground garage.
Our marriage is relatively healthy—we love each other and we still have sex.
But over the years, the frequency had decreased from three times a week to once a week, and it was routine and predictable.
But quite a few of them were intriguing: I was approached by a surgeon at the Toronto General Hospital, a finance director with a branch of the Ontario government and a detective with the Toronto Police Service.
I was startled when I opened one AM email and discovered it was from someone I knew.
It all began in the spring of 2011, after several bellinis at a Milestones with my best friend.