After graduation, one of my college roommates, Deb, came to New York and began working at a big international Fortune 500 firm as what was known in those days as a secretary and is now called a special assistant. Her boss was a tall, lanky, handsome 35 year old married guy with three very young kids, a beautiful wife, a big salary and a roving eye.
Soon he and Deb had a hot and heavy romance going. They often spent the night at his pied-a-terre in the city. I wonder what his wife thought about his claiming to be so overworked that he couldn’t make it home to Greenwich (less than a 45 minute commute).
For years, Deb believed that he loved her, that he was working on leaving his wife and that she and her boss would live happily ever after. They enjoyed their stolen moments in the pied-a -terre, not to mention dinners at Lutece and the Four Seasons, and she accompanied him on all of his business trips to Frankfurt, Paris, London, Sydney and Geneva. He bought her perfume, jewelry and expensive watches. After a while, she began to notice her biological clock ticking away.
Finally she delivered the ultimatum--it had to be now or never. He assured her that he was working on it, that he constantly brought the matter up with his wife and that she just wasn’t quite ready to let him go, but to rest assured that it would be soon.
Alone over the holidays for yet another year, Deb knew she had to do something. Shortly after New Year’s she called the wife one day and said something like “We both love him, I know. But if you really loved him as much as I do, you would let him go and find his happiness.”
The wife hung up on Deb, then called back about an hour later for some details.
When hubby arrived home in his Mercedes that evening, the wife smacked him over the head with a shovel.
He needed about a hundred stitches, immediately had Deb transferred to another division in the company and never spoke to her again.