I’m having an affair with a dad I met at playgroup – my husband’s too busy to notice

A south London-based woman in her forties tells how her child’s playgroup became the unlikely catalyst of a romance with a local father. I clearly remember the first time I spotted Dave*. We were crossed-legged on the floor of a toddler group in a community hall, clutching a colourful parachute and throwing it up and down in the air. Our children were running in and out. I’d been to a lot of these play groups with my sons. My eldest Matthew* is in reception, and my youngest Laurie* is at a childminder part-time, but every Friday I’d take him to “Twinkle Toes”. Dave stood out in the crowd as it’s more often mums there. Dave and I started chatting. He told me that he worked in TV but was in-between projects and basically unemployed, so was doing all the childcare. “Do you want me to make you a coffee?” he asked. The hall had a kettle, tea and biscuits. I nodded and joked that I was surviving on six a day. “Yeah, if you cut my veins, caffeine comes out,” he replied. We’d lived in south London for a few years, and one of the things I loved about the location was the amount of baby and toddler groups. I hated being alone with the kids. With both boys, I’d taken a year of maternity leave from my job in PR. Richard*, my partner, had not been able to take time off as he’s a freelance marketing consultant. Shorts When I reflect on my maternity leaves, I felt pretty hopeless and lonely. I was often trapped in the house, trying to get Laurie to nap (I was obsessed with sleep routines), and Richard was in his garden home office. He’d make himself a coffee, walk up the garden path and shut the door behind him. He used to pop in to get snacks and then disappear again. I knew he wasn’t working all that time but that office turned into his man cave. Another thing that annoyed me about Richard was that he never got up in the night – even at the weekends – to help with the boys, and Laurie was not a good sleeper. Richard said he was stressed, there were always deadlines or pitches to win or clients cancelling work. I was too tired with my own work and parenting to challenge him. I marvelled at how much Dave seemed to do. All the cooking, cleaning and childcare. I was burnt out by work and child-rearing, but Richard would never even check in on me. I sometimes suspected he was talking to someone online or perhaps watching porn. If he ever took over the childcare, he’d act as if I owed him something. It was a frustrating dynamic but one that my friends had with their partners too. At another toddler group, Dave and I sat side by side on an uncomfortable wooden bench, watching our kids playing. His daughter Saskia* was the same age as Laurie. I asked him if he planned to have more children. He launched into a long story about how his partner Becky had struggled to conceive, that they’d had IVF, about four rounds, and couldn’t go through that process again. “It was terrible, it almost made us split up,” he said. I was surprised at how candid he was. Parents can be like this though as they’re so tired, their normal defences are down. I took Dave’s number – to be honest I didn’t find him my usual type but he had piercing blue eyes which seemed to study me with more intensity than I was used to. Laurie and Saskia seemed to really get on so we arranged to meet the following Friday in our local park. “I’ve seen you in there,” he said, “We only live a few streets away.” I didn’t mention that I’d noticed him before either. In fact, I’d even texted another mum friend and told her there was a “hot Dad”. After that, I kept bumping into Dave when I was out on errands. I didn’t mention him to Richard but he didn’t ask me about my day anyway. When I tried to talk to him, he’d tell me he had more work to finish and disappear into his office. My dad had been the same, losing himself in work, and I was feeling depressed that I’d got myself into the same scenario, repeating a pattern that was imprinted on me as a child. Dave had a very different personality. He shared everything. It felt so freeing to say the thing that was in your head. He was open about his childhood trauma. His mum and dad hadn’t got on. He had a brother who had mental health issues and still lived with his parents. Dave had also struggled with his mental health at times too. ‘I’d forgotten what it felt like to have someone touch you. Richard and I hadn’t had sex in 12 months or more’ (Photo: SolStock/Getty) He said Becky was the main earner, and was also lost in work. He was trying to get a project off the ground but he’d not had any luck. We sometimes just lock eyes when we were singing some stupid song about scarecrows and he’d smile. I felt like we were getting closer. I looked forward to the baby group and we arranged a couple of playdates on the weekend too. We ended up meeting up in another park which was further away. Then one day, I noticed he looked sad. I asked him what was going on. “My Dad died,” he confided. “He’d been ill for ages with Parkinson’s but I just feel empty. I’ve started vaping, and have to hide it as Becky hates it.” I put my hand on his back, I don’t know why, it just felt natural, and that was the point where things changed. The scene was chaotic with noise and kids shouting and crying. Dave reached back and held my hand. “This coffee sucks,” he said, and we laughed because it made the moment feel less loaded. I didn’t feel guilty. I’d forgotten what it felt like to have someone touch you. Richard and I hadn’t had sex in 12 months or more. After that, I noticed that I was thinking about Dave a lot. He gave me a book of poetry. “I need you to read the one on page 19,” he’d said and it wasn’t an overtly romantic poem, but I read it 100 times. I started getting fed this weird content on social media which was all about “what to do when you’re obsessed with someone and want to stop thinking about them”. Like my phone could read my thoughts. I never saw Dave’s partner Becky, and once we’d held hands, well, we never talked about our partners again. “I want to see you on your own,” Dave said one day as we sat on a picnic blanket in the park while the kids played. “What do you think?” I didn’t feel it was wrong, in fact, I welcomed the fact that he wanted to take it to the next level. Richard was a workaholic. It was obvious that Dave had marriage problems and his wife was obsessed with work. That was why we were drawn to one another. He was becoming my best friend. We told our partners that we were going out for drinks with a local parents group. This wasn’t unusual as I sometimes went out with a group of local mums. We booked into a cheap hotel in Brentford. Dave paid for it on a credit card as I was worried as Richard and I have a joint account. We ordered a bottle of wine, and just went straight to the room. We had sex. I felt self-conscious about my body. “You have such beautiful curves,” Dave said afterwards. He vaped in the room, and told me that he felt like he was 100 per cent himself with me. “I can feel myself falling in love.” That night, the first night we’d spent together, I’d returned at midnight. Richard had just sent me a barrage of texts complaining that the boys were grumpy, hadn’t eaten their dinner and it had been a pain in the arse getting them to sleep. This was my daily life when he was hiding in the shed and I just ignored him. After that, Dave and I kept messaging back and forth. I had to delete the messages at the end of each day. I was a silly teen. Richard didn’t even look at my phone. Dave and I talked about how isolated we both felt. “It’s been going South for a long time,” he’d said. “She resents me because we’re having to rely on her income.” Now when Dave and I met for playdates we found it hard to not hold hands. A local shop owner told me that he had “just seen your hubby” and I knew he was describing Dave because he’d seen us together around the neighbourhood. We were now meeting more frequently. Inventing reasons to go to the park with the kids. A lid had come off. The kids didn’t seem to notice, but I worried as kids are smarter than you think. I knew my older son would possibly twig but luckily he was in childcare more of the time, and he only met Dave a couple of times. But also, there wasn’t any guilt. I felt like this was something I deserved. Dave and I met again at the same hotel. The sex was amazing. I realised how much I’ve missed that. I have even bought some new underwear for when we next meet up. The texts that we send are more intimate than anything I’ve shared with Richard. I’m a 43-year-old woman but I feel 16. Listening to love songs on the radio and thinking about him. I find his energy so attractive. I feel happy, high almost – I don’t even mind looking after the kids anymore as I have this new love. “I knew something would happen when I first saw you,” Dave said recently. “Who would have thought we’d meet in a smelly old community hall?” he said. It’s not the most erotic location it’s true (there is often the stench of dirty nappies in the air). We don’t talk about the future. I’ve been shocked at my ability to compartmentalise and justify what I’m doing to myself. Sometimes I wake up in the night and think about what might happen if our partners find out. But I don’t think I love Richard anymore and perhaps I want to be discovered? I have no idea what that would look like, so I try to just stay in the moment. I’m not sure how the kids would feel – I know they rarely see us being happy, so it isn’t a healthy dynamic for them to grow up with. Sometimes I worry that Dave will call it off, but the texts he sends are full of affection. “You work so hard and nobody sees that but I do. I see it all.” It was the kind of thing a female friend would text me and I was reminded of just how different Dave is. It’s almost as if he knows exactly what I need to hear. *All names have been changed for anonymity