Four months ago I met a great man. We get on famously – we both agree that it is at a very deep, soul-mate level, but he has a long-time girlfriend he lives with, who is the mother of his two kids. We both know the attraction is there, and he has been unhappy for five years now, but I have made it clear to him that I will not do anything that friends would not do unless he finds himself single. I am growing attached to him, though, and he has started making plans for us to do things together – including meeting his kids next week. I’m reluctant, because I know that if I were his partner I would be horrified. But as friends, isn’t meeting the family normal?
Meeting a friend’s kids is totally normal. But here’s the clincher (and you know this already): you’re not friends. Maybe you were at one time, and maybe you will be again one day, but right now you are something else. Even though nothing physical has happened, you’re in the throes of an emotional affair. He might seem like heaven on a stick, but it’s really the chemicals coursing through your central nervous system that you have to thank for the butterflies, and the increased heart rate – feeling as though you could stay awake for days, run a marathon and then write a thesis paper on a subject you know nothing about. It feels like the best drug ever, because essentially it is. In the salad days of infatuation the high levels of dopamine (the pleasure-seeking hormone) combined with the low levels of serotonin (that helps us to feel calm and relaxed) combine to create a crafty reward system that is nearly indistinguishable from all other forms of addiction.
The only way you will see the situation with any kind of lucidity is to step away from it. Otherwise, your brain will keep trying to convince you that this man is your soul mate, instead of a cheat who’s about to drag his children through a messy affair. If he’s not able to do anything about his unhappy relationship, then he’s either a) really weak or b) not really as unhappy as he says – which brings us to c), he’s lying to one of you.
As hard as it is to stop something that feels so good in the moment, it’s ultimately easier than the hangover you’ll feel when the truth comes out: and remember, it always does.
• Send your dilemmas about love, family or life in general to askmolly@theguardian.com.
