Adultery

TRAFFIC is at a standstill. Today of all days!

Geneva, with fewer than two hundred thousand inhabitants, behaves as if it were the center of the world. And there are people who believe this and fly all the way from their own countries to host what they call “summits.” These meetings usually take place on the outskirts of town, and traffic is rarely affected. At most, we catch sight of a few helicopters flying over the city.

I don’t know what happened today, but they closed one of our main roads. I read today’s papers, but not the city sections with the local news. I know that major world powers send their representatives here to discuss the threat of nuclear-weapons proliferation, “on neutral ground.” And does this affect my life?

A lot. I can’t afford to be late. I should have used public transportation instead of taking this stupid car.

Every year, Europe spends approximately 74 million Swiss francs (more than 80 million U.S. dollars) on hiring private detectives who specialize in following, photographing, and providing evidence that a client’s spouse is cheating on them. While the rest of the continent is in crisis and companies are going bankrupt and laying off workers, the infidelity market has seen tremendous growth.

And it’s not only the detectives who profit. Developers have created smartphone apps like SOS Alibi. The way it works is simple: at a set time it sends your partner a sweet message as though you were still at your office. So while you’re between the sheets drinking glasses of champagne, a text pops up on the partner’s phone letting them know you’ll be late leaving work because of an unexpected meeting. Another app, Excuse Machine, offers a series of excuses in French, German, and Italian—and you can choose whichever is most convenient that day.

But besides detectives and programmers, hotels have really come out the winner. With the one in seven Swiss adults who are having an extramarital affair, according to official statistics, and considering the number of married people in the country, we’re talking about four hundred fifty thousand individuals looking for a discreet room where they can meet. To attract customers, the manager of one luxury hotel once said, “We have a system that enables credit-card charges to appear as lunch in our restaurant.” The establishment has become a favorite among those willing to cough up 600 Swiss francs for one afternoon. That is precisely where I’m headed.

After a stressful half an hour, I leave my car with the valet and run up to the room. Thanks to their e-mail service, I know exactly where to go without asking anything at the front desk.

From the café on the French border to where I am now, nothing more was needed—no explanations, no vows of love, not even another meeting—for us to be sure that this was what we really wanted. We were both afraid to think too much and back down, so the decision was made without questions or answers.