Today someone asked me a question. ‘Are you married?’ they said. It was only in passing, but for the first time in eighteen years, I hesitated. I think I am. I hope I am. But the truth is, I don’t know any more. You see, eighteen years ago, I married the most beautiful girl in the world, whose only fault was that she loved me blindly. And of course you’ll guess the punch line that I took advantage of the fact, so every other fault is mine.

I am the world’s biggest cliché, stumbling around in a well-kept middle-aged fool’s body. The fool who let a pretty face and some cheeky banter turn his head, and broke his family for the price of a few afternoons in an expensive hotel room. I’m that man. No doubt you’ve met me before. I know I have. I’ll spare us both the details, but rest assured there are many more clichés involved and there were many afternoons before that.

So now I can see the pretty face whenever I want in my expensive rented apartment. I don’t spend my weekends cleaning out the garage, or taking two boys to football training through the week. I don’t have to cheer from the sidelines and stop for chips on the way home. And I don’t have to take the bins out on a freezing Monday morning when I’ve forgotten to put them out on Sunday night. There are no bins at all to take out in my lovely new apartment, and even that rubbish chute hasn’t made me happy.

In short, I am a free agent and now, quite soon after, but also quite a bit too late, I can see that something I used to believe was one of my greatest strengths is in fact my greatest weakness. I never meant to hurt my wife (read that in your most clichéd voice, Mr Mulberry). Possibly you won’t believe it; I’m not sure I would. But it’s true, because what I did had nothing to do with her and everything to do with my own stupid ego. She didn’t even cross my mind. And what an irony it is that I now don’t seem able to think of anything but her.

I took something as precious as blind trust and turned it against her just because I could, and I deserve the guilt that keeps me up all hours of the night. I lie there (alone) and think about when I used to lie next to my wife, wishing I was somewhere else. And now that I am somewhere else, all I want is to be back in that warm space next to a good woman who married a bad man. It feels like I’m being whittled away from the inside out by all the guilt, like soon I’ll just be a brittle husk that’ll disintegrate in the first good wind. I’m just waiting out that breeze now. Almost looking forward to it.

How do I fix what I’ve done, Danny Mulberry? You with all your spiritual insight and wisdom? How do I live with this guilt? And, you’ll see through me I know, but really, what I’m asking is – is it fair to hope for forgiveness when you’ve done the unforgiveable?