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The Workaholic

Ian Douglas Robertson

For those who love their work, the act of loving is merely an interlude.

    Rod and I were colleagues before he branched out on his own. He was the heartthrob of the office and so I had to have him. Our brief affair took place early on in his marriage. We seemed to gel wonderfully, particularly in bed. Every time he made love to me was as if he were trying to write a poem, to express some hidden depths of sorrow or longing.
    One day, about a month after our affair had begun, he told me he couldn’t meet me as usual after work. Then, when the excuses became more frequent and less plausible, I knew that it was over between us. I had known for some time that no woman, however devoted, would be able to make him totally happy. He needed something much bigger on which to expend his inexhaustible energy and creativity. Naturally, when our affair ended, I couldn’t help wondering whether he’d found a woman more resourceful and giving than myself.
    The first time I met him he struck me as a one-woman man; a family man, faithful to the end, and Alison the ideal wife for him, docile, submissive, able to provide the love and warmth that every man needs. I suppose if Rod hadn’t seemed such a challenge to me I wouldn’t have gone after him the way I did. When I suggested we meet for a drink after work, I had no idea it was going to be so easy. I was at that wonderful stage in my life when I was still immensely attractive to men and I wanted to play the mating game for as long as I could; the initial hard-to-get, and then that delicious feeling of wallowing in sin. The nuns have a lot to answer for. But somehow I knew from the start that he was searching for something I didn’t have, something that would absorb him utterly, raise him above the humdrum of everyday life, give another dimension to his existence, in short, instil in him a passion that would never die.
    Most men are content with very little, but not Rod. He needs to be let free to fly like an eagle, to be able to spread his wings and soar into the heights. Putting him in a cage would be like clipping his wings, his spirit would be broken. He was a man in search of a higher destiny and, given the chance, I knew that he would find it. The strange thing is that if he had become a Greenpeace activist or a politician or even a writer, Alison, his wife, might have been able to accept it.
    When she told me, the first thing that occurred to me was that he was having an affair. It struck me as rather ironical that she should choose to confide in me of all people.
    “Are you sure he’s not cheating on you, love?” I said.
    Alison looked at me as if I was out of my mind, but she considered it for a moment, possibly wondering whether I knew more than I was letting on.
    Then, she said with conviction, “Oh, no. Definitely not.”
    I almost felt sorry for her, but it’s easier to feel contempt for someone who so deliberately deludes herself. Yet, I’ve come across so many wives who seem to be the only ones who don’t know their husbands are cheating on them. Even after they’ve been told, they steadfastly refuse to believe it. A woman’s faith in her husband is almost unshakeable, until it suddenly dawns on her that her marriage is just like everyone else’s.
    “It’s just not normal for a man to come home from work every day at ten o’clock at night. He must be up to something.”
    I felt sure I knew exactly what the bastard was up to, surprised after so long to find myself feeling pangs of jealousy. “If Jim started coming home at ten o’clock at night, I’d know exactly what he’d been doing.”
    “Yes, but you and Jim have that kind of relationship.”
    “What do you mean ‘that kind of relationship’?”
    “Well, you’ve told me yourself you’ve had affairs.”
    She sounded so pathetic with her mousy shoulder-length hair and that absurd teenage fringe. I wanted to say to her, “Yes, and one of them was your husband.”
    “Have you noticed anything about the way he makes love to you?” I know it all first hand. It’s either one thing or the other; the dreaded wilts or a pneumatic drill. Of course, I know Jim would never leave me for another woman. He needs me. He can’t cook for a start and, besides, he knows I’d strip him of every penny he’s got.
    The truth is I had never imagined Alison and Rod having a sex life. I had always thought Alison to be one of those coy women, too inhibited to even undress in front of her husband. She seemed so plain and, well, unsexy, that I was quite taken aback when she said, “Oh, there’s no problem in that department. Anything but! In fact, it’s about the only place where we really connect, but he creeps in and out like a secret lover.”
    “You lucky thing! I wish I had a husband like that.”
    “It’s not a joke, Janet. I feel like a one-parent family. And the kids see even less of him than I do.”
    “Well, if he’s not cheating on you, dear, I really wouldn’t worry.”
    “Look. I know you have this free and easy relationship with Jim, but it’s not my idea of a marriage. I want us to share our lives together, even if it only means sitting in front of the telly in the evening.”
    “Have you talked to him about it?” I was somewhat relieved to hear that he wasn’t having an affair, though I still wasn’t totally convinced. My experience of men tells me that if they’re acting funny, nine times out ten there’s another woman involved.
    “Whenever he’s not too tired, yes. But I usually end up feeling terribly guilty. He says that I don’t appreciate how hard he’s working and that I don’t give him the moral support he deserves.”
    “Oh, it sounds like a classic case of cheating, if you ask me, Dear. Men are born liars.”
    “Oh, no. I’m quite sure of it. You see, I’ve had him followed.”
    “You what?”
    “Yes, a private detective. Very good. And very discreet. I’ve used him quite a few times.”
    I began to see hidden depths in Alison’s fawn-like eyes. For a moment I wondered whether she had had him followed when we were having our little affair, but if she had, she surely wouldn’t have continued our friendship and then discussed her marriage with me.
    “So, you’re convinced he’s not cheating on you?”
    “Oh, absolutely. He’s totally engrossed in his work. It’s his life. He thinks, talks, sleeps and dreams his work.”
    “I can’t understand what you’re complaining about then. I’d be very happy if Jim were a little more devoted to his work. It’d keep him out of mischief for one thing. Damn men! They’re still so blasted attractive, when we women are over the hill.”
    “Don’t be silly, Janet! You’re still very attractive. You don’t look a day over forty. You keep your skin looking lovely with all those expensive creams you use.”
    “Yes. Well, I’m not having the same success as I used to. With men, I mean. Oh, drat! Why do we have to get old?”
    “I’m sorry to hear that.”
    “What?”
    “That you’re not having so much success with men these days.”
    Why did I think there was a hint of irony in her voice? Was she revealing yet another side to her character?
    “What do you think I should do, Janet?”
    “Well, if work turns him on, then I’d leave him be and get on with my own life. You have the children and the choir. And you say he’s still good in bed. So, I’d count my lucky stars and do absolutely nothing.”
    “I’ve decided to give him an ultimatum. Either us or his work.”
    Alison said it with such cold calculation.
    “But don’t you love him?”
    “Oh, yes, I adore him. Always will. And I know that some women are incredibly envious of me having such a handsome husband, but ....he’s gone back on all we’d agreed on. If the family doesn’t come first, then I don’t want this marriage to continue.”
    “I do think you’re being a bit hard, Ali.”
    “No. I realise now that I should have been tougher with him right from the beginning............ I shouldn’t have let him get away with that ridiculous affair he had with you for a start.”
    “What?” I felt as if she had punched me straight in the face.
    “You honestly believed I didn’t know? I’m not that naive, Janet. Of course I knew what you two were up to, always whispering to each other and sharing those private jokes together, as if you were two schoolchildren.”
    “But why didn’t you say something, do something?”
    “I wanted it to be a test of our marriage. Besides, I knew it was only an infatuation that would quickly fizzle out.”
    I had no idea what to do or say. Apologizing would be foolish and hypocritical. Alison, on the other hand, seemed perfectly at ease.
    “No, I’ve made up my mind. I’ve put up with his obsessions and infatuations far too long. It’s either us or his work. He can take it or leave it.”
    “I’m quite sure he’ll take it, my dear.” I had to admire her. I knew that I should have done the same with Jim years ago. I was rapidly taking second place to the ‘Boys’. “By the way, Ali. I have to ask this. Do you hate my guts for what I did?”
    “Totally.”
    “Well, why did you go on pretending to be my friend?”
    “I wanted to watch you suffer when Rod left you. I knew that you loved him, much more than he ever loved you. And, well, after that, it didn’t seem to matter anymore. His casual affairs were nothing compared to his love affair with his work, because it’s not a mere infatuation this time. It’s the real thing and I’m not standing for it.”
    “You mean, he had other affairs.”
    “Oh, yes, you weren’t the only one, dear. Don’t flatter yourself. But I’ve still got Rod, Janet, and I intend to keep him. I’ll win him back from her, no matter what it takes.”
    “Back from her?”
    “Work, that perfidious bitch!”
    Oh! How I envied her! And who would have believed it from that lumpy provincial woman who looked as if her idea of paradise on earth was mucking out stables?

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