My Stud

There’s something about him I still can’t quite put my finger on. Witty, yes—but in that mysterious, slow-burn kind of way. He nicknamed himself “my Stud,” and God help me, it stuck. It made me laugh at first, but eventually, I leaned into it. I liked the way it felt on my lips—playful, bold, secret.

Talking to him pulled me out of the darkness. The weight of my marriage crumbling, the constant stress of my business, the monotony of daily life… all of it faded when we talked. He became my escape. My fantasy. A place I could slip into and breathe. I don’t know if I was pretending to be someone else or if I was finally touching the woman I had always wanted to be. Either way, I knew I didn’t want to go back to who I had been. That version of me was tired, ashamed, small. But he didn’t see her that way. He saw strength. He told me I was strong, that I was more than I gave myself credit for. I didn’t believe him, but God, I wanted to.

I hated myself for staying in a marriage where my husband constantly looked for comfort in other women. And now… here I was. Doing the same thing. The difference was—I didn’t care anymore. I’d been faithful in every way that counted, and still, I was the one left bleeding. So yeah, maybe I was a hypocrite. But at some point, my give-a-shit just broke. I needed to know what it felt like to be wanted. Desired. Seen. I needed to feel that rush, that escape, that hunger again.

What I didn’t expect were the emotions.

He slowly became a part of me. A craving. An addiction. And not just for the flirtation or the fantasy, but for how he made me feel—alive. Desired. Like I mattered.

We didn’t talk every single day, but he was always there… in the back of my mind, tucked between thoughts, breathing life into moments I didn’t even realize were empty. I was so wrapped up in the dream, I convinced myself he felt it too. That maybe, just maybe, the connection was real on both sides.

But I’m beginning to see things more clearly now. The emotional pull was mostly mine. He enjoyed it—sure—but I don’t think it ever ran as deep for him. And I’m trying to be okay with that.

Trying to let go of a dream that never truly belonged to me.

But I’ll never forget how it felt.

For a moment… I tasted freedom.