My cheating heart

"I have to confess something,” I said, between teeth clenched and a mouth wincing. "I cheated.”

Have I no internal filter?

"What do you mean?” came the response from the man to whom I’d been loyal all these years, who perks me up in the morning, keeps me running through the afternoon and makes sure I get my jolt even when he’s not around.

"I turned elsewhere,” I said and even as the words hung in the air like steam rising off a piping hot latte I wondered what in the world I was doing.

There was no way he would have ever known. What he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him. My confession might lighten my heart but it was likely to turn his opinion of me as dark as a tall cup of French Roast with a triple shot of espresso thrown in.

But here I was, mumbling the horrible truth of where exactly I turned for warmth and comfort.

"What did you say?” he asked, forcing me to repeat the words.

He was obviously steamed and was it any surprise? He undoubtedly had just grounds.

The second time others overheard, greeting the admission with widened eyes and a hint of amusement. Obviously, my pain is worthy of mocking — or at least blatant eavesdropping.

I quickly tried to soften the blow.

"I am sorry. I didn’t plan to go astray but you weren’t around and it was convenient. It meant nothing,” I sputtered in quick succession.

The encounter wasn’t particularly cheap or easy, I explained as though pouring out the usual collection of excuses would make the deed better. The other one was flashy but impersonal and I have it on good authority I am not the only one it seduced with promises emptier than a crumpled to-go cup.

How could I have done this? I wondered again. What about all those praises I sang about my true love? What about all those offers I turned down from others who mistook me for somebody who didn’t know the meaning of loyalty? What about the fact I finally made a commitment after years of short-term relationships and quick encounters with nameless baristas?

In the end, the owner of my favorite coffee shop let us put my indiscretion to rest, never to be spoken of again.

And, he offered up what I was looking for — well, in addition to a hot cup of Joe made only the way he can: A cup of forgiveness.

Michelle Durand’s column "Off the Beat” runs every Tuesday and Thursday. She can be reached by e-mail: michelle@smdailyjournal.com or by phone: (650) 344-5200 ext. 102. What do you think of this column? Send a letter to the editor: letters@smdailyjournal.com.