The XX Factor: Slate women blog about politics, etc...

Luckily, I Hadn't Even Been in Chicago...

Tim and Ellen, the few married women I know who've come right out and said they were having affairs all wound up divorcing the hubby and marrying the "other man.'' Only, those are just the ones who talked about it. One of my most gorgeous married friends once complained she wouldn't even know how to get something new started, so that one in three still seems high to me. But then, I am someone who missed her own fling: One night maybe 10 years ago, I get home from work and my husband says nonchalantly, oh, nearly forgot, there's a message for you I saved. (Which should have been a red flag right there, because how many times in our marriage has he said that?) OK, who was it? Dunno, cough, cough, didn't listen. Turns out, the message is from some guy I never heard of saying hey Melinda, LOVED our super-great time together in Chicago and just found out I'm going to be in D.C. on such-and-such a date and sure would like to see you again, pant, pant; call me! So not only did somebody pretending to be me have a big old night out—but she was enough of a woman with a plan to use my name from the get-go, and hand out my unlisted home number, too. I half suspected a certain bony, bitter (see, it is never a nice word) officemate—who I'd bet my life believes Hillary wuz robbed. But I still don't know how (whether?) this love story began or ended—or maybe it's still going on.