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Infidelity

Essays, Memoirs, & True Stories

Jolene

John and I first met in an aisle of a snack shop run by a blind man named Ray. By the time we got to the register, we were deep in conversation. Ray handed me my change and said, “That guy is smitten with you.”

By C.J. Gall March 2015
Readers Write

First Love

A shoebox full of correspondence, a birthday party magician, summer camp

By Our Readers March 2015
The Sun Interview

A More Perfect Union

Esther Perel on Intimacy, Infidelity, and Desire in Long Term Relationships

People come to me because their spouse isn’t making them happy. I don’t think any of our grandparents would have considered that a reason to seek therapy. A passionate relationship in which we ask for novelty and mystery from the same person we look to for security and stability — that is a grand new invention in the history of humankind.

By Mark Leviton December 2013
Fiction

Alternate

Before Cat and I became a couple, before we even knew each other, we were a team: knocking on strangers’ doors to bring them Barack Obama’s tidings of hope. Everyone in Brooklyn was already voting for him anyway, so they just cheered us on and thanked us for our service. There was a precoital vibe, a tingling anticipation of victory.

By Amy Bonnaffons September 2013
Poetry

Thinking

Don’t you wish they would stop, / all the thoughts swirling around in your head like / bees in a hive, dancers tapping their way across the stage?

By Danusha Laméris September 2013
Fiction

Michael The Armadillo

They’d made it through all the Michaels, Carrie and Dan believed. They’d made it through Michael J. Fox’s comeback and Michael Vick’s arrest and Michael Douglas’s cancer, made it through the terrible summer when Michael Phelps won all those gold medals in swimming, and then the next terrible summer when Michael Jackson died on every channel for days and days.

By Susan Perabo February 2013
Poetry

Selected Poems

from “Wondrous” | I’m driving home from school when the radio talk / turns to E.B. White, his birthday, and I exit / the here and now of the freeway at rush hour

By Sarah Freligh August 2012
Fiction

Overflow

On the day my mom got her last chemo treatment, I fished from the dike of the Intake Reservoir. I wasn’t supposed to be fishing. I was supposed to be delivering the Hawthorne Pennysaver. My summer job was to place a crisp Pennysaver at each of the 465 doorways of the Pleasant Pines Apartments once a week, but I hadn’t done that for months.

By Tim Melley September 2011
Readers Write

Rumors

Red patent leather shoes, the Y2K bug, the Gestapo

By Our Readers September 2011
Readers Write

The Back Door

Catching fireflies, caring for a newborn calf, hearing a slamming door for the first time

By Our Readers April 2011