Posted by a Contributor in March's Magazine
Dear Mrs MacPickle,
I have become involved in an illicit, furtive and rather unconventional relationship with a married man.
Basically, we take turns to steal something, then text a picture of the booty to the other person. We call it ‘thexting’ (theft texting).
Aside from the obvious criminal element, I’ve always felt that it’s a fairly harmless way for a bored house husband and an equally bored housewife to put a bit of sparkle into their days, but friends I have confided in all tell me the same thing – that it has to stop, that it could tear our families apart.
Perhaps there is more to it for me than I want to admit even to myself. I don’t fancy the man involved as such, but the class divide – he is of very noble stock – adds an element of unobtainability that lends an almost sexual thrill to our liaisons (and I know that he is equally beguiled by my council estate origins). Also, we have started exchanging not just pictures of our procured items, but the actual items themselves. Gift wrapped. In stolen wrapping paper. The fear of getting found out by our partners only adds to the excitement
Do our kleptomaniacal exchanges really have to stop? Should we just do sexting like everyone else? Please help.
Firstly, whilst I must point out that what you are doing is illegal and therefore I can’t condone it, I would like to congratulate you. You seem to have found a remarkably creative way of dealing with a problem which around ninety per cent of the letters I receive focus on: the need to inject a bit of fun and naughtiness into the pleasant but dull grind of domestic life. And moreover, you are undermining capitalism at the same time, which ought to be applauded on some level.
However, the fact that you are writing to me at all shows that you are quite aware that sadly this clandestine association is not going to end well unless it ends soon. Criminal aspect aside, where there are secrets there will always be the potential to hurt people.
My advice would be as follows. Fess up to your other half. Tell him you have been dabbling in a midlife crisis but you have seen the error of your ways. Ask him if you can find a babysitter and then whisk him away to make it up to him – try to find something super-fun or naughty to do together, like playing knock-a-door and run or eating doner kebabs.
Then take your upper class co-conspirator out on the lash, he is obviously craving letting his figurative hair down. Drink vodka till you think you might be sick and say a toast of goodbye to your naughty habit, it was fun while it lasted but it’s time for it to end.
After all, people who genuinely want to mess up their lives send pictures of more than half-inched garibaldis.
Yours, Celia MacPickle