This is what middle-aged men do, he thought to himself. They seek out their own lost youth in those that are still young and exciting, hoping to salvage the last few remnants of their now glorified past. It's another matter, of course, that when they were actually living out these "glory days" they didn't even consider themselves human enough to inhabit the spaces they were in. Neither did anyone else around them. But here I am now, doing what all middle-aged men do, he tried to justify. I've reached a point where I must exhibit the symptoms of a mid-life crisis if I want to seamlessly move into the next phase. Like a rite of passage or coming of age ritual - another man thing.

He thought it was the thrill of something new propelling him forward, but it really wasn't. He thought about something he had read a long time ago. When our lives become stagnant and stale, we often look for things that once excited and stimulated us, made us work at some point in the not too distant past. Most extra marital affairs, offenders say, happen because of the mere novelty of being with someone new, but is it really the whole truth? If you probe a little further the reasons most often are, "She/He made me feel funny, smart, beautiful/handsome, special again." The keyword being again.

Your spouse made you feel all these things once too, right? Then what happened? The honeymoon came to an end, all those chemical explosions in your brain simmered down and real life took over. So how can you be so sure that it's not going to be the same this time around? Of course, it will be just the same. If it's going to be wine and roses at the start, it has to come to grinding halt at some point. In an affair there is, of course, the matter of not living together and thus avoiding domestic drudgery so the exciting phase probably lasts a little longer.

He knew all of the above. He went ahead anyway because like everyone else before him, he thought it would be different for him. He thought he could grab the brass ring and hold on to it forever. So he jumped on to the carousel, eager and hopeful. The lights and the music made it all too perfect, even if his heart raced frantically beneath. He hadn't felt this way in years - alive, alert and aware. The movement of that wonderfully big and colourful joy ride excited him, the momentum soothed him. His heart skipped many beats as he watched all the merry go around, all the merry get loud, all the merry reach out. His time had come and as he made a grab for that shiny brass ring he knew how important this was to him. Nailing it meant another free ride, perhaps many more free rides.

If there's one thing he hadn't taken into account it was the matter of maintaining that all too crucial balance. For if the carousel went around, the seats also moved up and down. The ups were wonderful and invigorating, the downs seemed to bring a blurry image closer. With every long, drawn out turn of the spoke beneath, the image got sharper but only around the edges. He could either get off and walk toward it or stay on for some more downs.

He decided to stay...