It began innocently enough. Back in October, a women I was attracted to gave me a ride home from a theatre board meeting. I intentionally told her the slowest way to get to my house, so I could maximize the moment. About three blocks from my house, I asked "Are you messing with anyone?" She replied that she lived with her boyfriend, and I blurted out very unintentionally "Man, that's lame." I thought that was the end of that.

Soon after, she found out I didn't work on Fridays. Without much prompting, she said she would come to my place on a Friday morning. I did nothing to stop her. She showed up with orange juice, champagne and condoms, planning on a one-time sinful moment, but I had other ideas in mind. We drank home-made mimosas until the bottle was empty, and before either of us had a chance to think, our clothes were on the floor of my bedroom. I didn't have sex with her that morning. I just explored her body up and down and up again. It had been almost half a year since I had had a naked girl in my room, and I was going to appreciate every inch of skin on her body. I really had only one goal that initial morning--I wanted her to come back. I succeeded, and she came back the next Friday.

In fact, she came back almost every Friday morning after that. She started bringing breakfast. Sometimes, we would kick back, eat and talk for awhile, and other times, we would go at each other from the moment she walked in. After about a month, I realized that I had never felt more comfortable with any other woman in my life. She was a perfect fit. I'm almost six feet tall, and she's only an inch shorter. Our bodies linked up very naturally, and I found myself wanting to hang onto her every time I saw her.

But there was a catch. She still lived with her boyfriend, and many people knew both of us. Our relationship had to be a silent one. This was difficult for the first couple weeks. I was so happy to find a woman worth rubbing that I wanted to tell anyone and everyone, but to speak out meant to lose what I had going. There was no way talking about this relationship would be better than having it. When people asked if I was seeing anyone, I simply replied, "Yeah, but it's not anything I can talk about." I'm the type of guy who can get away with that response.

October became November, November became December, December became January, and January became February. She became my girlfriend every Friday morning when she walked in the door. We would fool around. We would talk about where we were, where we had been and where we were going. She would read and comment on my short stories. We would sit in my backyard and talk while she smoked clove cigarettes from a pack I had for no good reason. We silently broke up every time she left. I saw her on other days besides Friday. In fact, over the months, I eventually saw her on each day of the week, but Fridays were the mainstay. No matter what happened during the week, we always had Fridays.

In many ways, it was the best relationship I ever had. I'm not the kind of guy you want to see all the time. Stopping by every now and again will fill you up with Jungle for a few days. I never called her. I never sat in my car outside her house, wondering why she wasn't with me all the time. I never felt jealous, possessive, or hurt. I was thankful that she kept showing up.

As an American, I don't think I have done anything that would impress the Average Joe and Jane more. Almost every guy wishes they had a sexy woman come over to their place and hang out for two or three hours on Friday mornings. Almost every woman would love a guilt-free, stress-free relationship with a guy who wants nothing but to hang on her for brief but complete moments on Friday mornings. The kicker was that we actually cared for each other. No matter what else I do in life, I'll always hold our Friday mornings in the highest regard.

Even the best of life must cease to be. From the outset, I always knew she was leaving for New York at the beginning of March. She has friends out there and wants to go to a graduate school back east for mathematics. As much as I wanted her to stay, I never made a concerted effort to make her do so. The worst thing you can do is make someone give up their dreams just so you can hold onto them longer. So my memorable Friday mornings have come to an end along with my secret relationship. The lady is off in New York (sans any boyfriend), and I'm still in New Mexico with chapped lips. My life is better for the moments I had with this lady, and it will take a lot to ever experience a better Friday morning. As much as I enjoyed writing about this, it will never top actually having the relationship I could never talk about.

Chris Jungle is back to single guy, but not many knew he was ever anything else.