A torrent of mail has come in about the Mistress blog and podcast. Thank you.

Here’s an outstanding example from a proud podcast participant who asked to remain anonymous:

She had a wonderful lover. She had just split up with her first husband and needed a friend. She doesn’t exactly remember how they got together. She thinks it was one day when she was shopping at the car parts store where he worked with one of her former co-workers, who dared him to take her out. He took the dare, and took her out to dinner. That was the beginning of their relationship. There were many years between them. He had a daughter who was about her age, at the time. She says that one day he admitted that he had a deep, emotional feeling for her. She admitted the same, and they became lovers that day. This lasted for about 5 years. He’d spend lunchtimes with her. They’d go on jaunts to the ski lodge or the beach for the day (once for a weekend), take walks through the woods, and they would make warm, gentle love. He’d listen to her, talk with her, simply hold her when she needed it, and just be there. He even went to visit her and stay over a few times when she moved 50 miles away to further her education.

During the time they were together as lovers, she wrote pages and pages of poetry — some of her best. They talked about being together, about what it would mean if she got pregnant and had his child, and what that type of future could mean to both of them, and his family. He out and out told her that he could never leave his wife for anyone, and it hurt her deeply at the time. But still, they stayed lovers for several years.

Eventually she met someone special, and remarried. She confided that now that she’s been with her current husband for almost 25 years, she can see what he meant about not being willing to leave his wife .

           Though their days as lovers were over, they still loved each other. He retired, and he and his family moved to Florida. He became afflicted with Emphysema and could no longer take walks when he came north to visit friends and family — and her. One day she got a phone call from his eldest daughter. ” “Bryan” passed away yesterday.” She stopped breathing and her heart skipped a beat. “He went out to his workshop in the morning just like he always did. When Mom called him in for lunch, he didn’t come in. She went to get him and found him slumped over his workbench, dead. We thought we should call you and let you know, seeing as you were friends.” She thanked the daughter and told her how very sorry she was about his death. She also said she hoped his wife – their mother – would be OK. She was broken inside, nonetheless. She sent a sympathy card and a VERY truthful letter about their real relationship, and thanked the wife for sharing him when she needed a friend. She never heard from the family again.

          She told me she can thank Bryan for a lot of things — being there when she needed someone, showing her that someone cared and helping her feel that she was important and valuable, being a friend as well as a lover, and for not lying to her just to make her feel better, but being truthful so that it gave her something to think about……… and those reams of heartfelt poetry. She said, “Sometimes I wish I could talk with him again, and get his advice or opinion on something. Sometimes I could just use one of his hugs. I feel all the richer for having known him and having been his mistress.”

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