I met a man whose wife was ill. Their relationship was no longer sexual, and he was in a caretaker role, and seeking release. We fell in love, and he promised to marry me when his wife passed. That was five years ago. I know he isn’t lying about his wife’s illness, but I no longer want to wait. The only leverage I have is telling his wife and children, which I would never do. It would destroy him and destroy us. But I’m drunk right now and I need you tell me I shouldn’t.
You shouldn’t—not unless you want stoned CNN viewers rooting against the detectives investigating your murder on a future episode of Forensic Files.
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