So shall we go back to the beginning with Mr Smith?
Mr Smith and I met around the time I had stopped seeing Mr Married, so as you can imagine the last place I thought I would find an ally was in the shape of a happily married man. Except, I quickly found out he was an unhappily married man in the shape of a happily married man.
One word: denial.
We have a lot in common and soon became each other's listening posts, the friendship was quickly elevated to the top table of friends and when we actually see each other (rather than extended IM chats) the lunches, dinners and nights out fly-by, fuelled with laughter, flirting and alcohol.
I am myself, he has seen all sides of me, and knows I am Thirty. There is no stone uncovered, and probably the purest friendship in a long while.
The downside? Apart from the fact that he is married?
We flirt. Lots of innocent-ish touching, an accidental brush of a hand for example. He tried to hold my hand once, and I couldn't place my hand on top of his wedding-ring-adorned-hand.
When out, we are often mistaken as a couple, more for the ease of banter and genuine laughter that accompanies our time together.
In true When Happy Met Sally style - I was thinking that this is a time where men and women can be friends without sex getting in the way, as we both had other people to have sex with. Mr Smith has Mrs Smith, and I have the male population in north west London to encounter. Except unfortunately neither of us were actually having the sex we wanted to...