I am married, my wife knows, and she read this before it went up

I am married. My wife knows what I am, knows I am posting, and read this before it went up. That arrangement between us took about three years to arrive at and it is not a quiet accommodation or a thing she puts up with. It is a set of rules we agreed, written down, with limits on both sides and a way for either of us to stop it.

Forty eight, Stockport, married nineteen years, two children at home, and one very long conversation behind me that I would not want to have twice.

The rules, since they are the first thing anybody would ask. Nothing at our house. Nothing on a Sunday. No overnights. My wife knows the name of anybody I am seeing. She has no interest in meeting anybody and no interest in the subject beyond wanting me not to be quietly miserable, which is roughly where nineteen years has landed us.

What I want inside those limits is a structured arrangement. Standing tasks through the week, a fixed afternoon, and a woman who is particular about how things are done. I am aware the limits rule me out for a great many people, and that is a fair judgement rather than a harsh one.

What I do not want is to be asked to be discreet in the sense of lying, since not lying is the entire reason this exists.