Infidelity

I’ve found a new walking buddy. Quite cute, in fact. Not too tall. Fashionably colored. With two wheels, two handles, and a cushiony comfy seat. Sounds like a bike, you say? Why, yes, that’s what I thought, at first. But I have since come to think otherwise. You see, bikes are meant to be transportation vessels. They’re meant to take you places. But that’s just not how our relationship works. Hidden beyond its twisted exterior, I think there was a bike somewhere in there, at some point. Maybe even a solid, strong, sexy one. Maybe one that made all others of its kind jealous, but those were the olden days. Now, this bike is just a man, like you and me, living every day, as if it’s his last.  

Last week, on a cold, wet morning. I locked the front door, and as I walked towards my friend, I told him. “Friend, I’m late. I should have been at the library by now. We’ve got to run.” We pulled out of my driveway and turned onto Banbury Rd. It was raining, quite hard. And we chugged along quite fine for a good five minutes. Then there was an intersection. A busy intersection. A four-way intersection, with kids crossing. An intersection with a red light, shining straight in our eyes. Well, in my eyes. I squeezed the brake, and nothing happened. I pulled it so hard towards me, that my nails were grinding into my palm, and still nothing happened. We were still running at full speed. That’s when I realized that Confuscious had gone blind. It snapped it’s brake. And instead, we took a nice walk. 

For forty-five minutes.

In the rain. 

To the library.

This is not the first time. In fact, this has happened so often that every bike co-op in Oxford knows us. Often, I’ll see the man who works at Summertown Cycles in Zappis Café in the centre. He gives me that smile, the kind of smile you give your girlfriend when you know her boyfriend’s cheating. Last time he I took my bike in (when it’s other brake snapped), he told me, “I’m sorry. I think it’s time you faced the facts. It’s time.”

Every week, the number of unexpected, long walks Confuscious and I take increase. This past week, for example, we took five. How many times did I ride my bike to campus, you ask? Let me think…..Oh yes, that would be five.

We stopped to walk Every. Single. Day.

I think it’s time we had the talk. He’s got to know. This is inappropriate. It can’t keep happening. I’ve just got to man up and say it to him. I’ve got to tell him: I’m married. There’s only one person in the world I’m meant to take long, unexpected walks with hand in hand. I can’t keep doing this.

Yes, it’s time for the talk. But I just don’t think I’m ready to be a heartbreaker. For now, I’ll just continue to leave my friend unlocked in shady places overnight, and see if, like all disloyal friends, he’ll jump ship when a younger thang comes walking along.