No sex....
After our youngest headed off to college, my wife Sheila decided we needed to improve the communication in the house. She chose Sunday evening right after dinner for our little chats. We were supposed to discuss any major household needs, possible vacation destinations and other things that needed to be done. I expected the worst.
The first Sunday chat went well, what did the house need, pest control, roof condition, which rooms would need to be painted first. We ended the session with a list and priorities. Sheila was all smug with herself on how it went.
The first crack appeared on our second Sunday chat when we began talking about the life expectancy of our cars. Although her car was newer than mine, she no longer wanted to drive the minivan we so desperately needed while driving the kids' sports teams around. Sheila want a certified preowned Lexus or BMW.
"Sheila honey, you can buy any car you want as long as you pay for it," I said.
"Why do I have to pay for it, you paid for the minivan and your jeep," she said.
"Yes I did, we both work, so there's no reason you should expect me to buy you a luxury car. For the first time in a decade, I don't have a car payment and I'm in no hurry for another one. I think I can easily get five more years out of the jeep and your minivan will last longer than that. This isn't a need, it's a want, so go ahead. Just make sure you can afford the car payment."
Sheila turned a bright red and went storming off, slamming the bedroom door on her way. When we were younger that meant I wasn't getting any that night, but I couldn't remember the last time I did get any. I usually slept in what had been our oldest son's room, so the closed bedroom door wasn't significant.
Sheila started off week three with the car again, telling me she talked to my friend Matt who worked for a Lexus dealer. I needed to be reasonable she said.
"I'm sure Matt told you that certified pre-owned was just a way for them to jack up the price," I said.
"But I can't afford a new one on my own, will you split it with me?"
"No Sheila, go buy a Camry, it's almost the same thing."
"I deserve a Lexus after driving minivans for the last dozen years."
"Yes, you drove minivans, cars I paid for, cars I insured, and I was responsible for all the maintenance. You want a Lexus, it's all on you, car payment, insurance and maintenance. I'm going to watch the game."
Sheila stewed at the kitchen table for another half hour, jotting notes in a little journal she began keeping. Her shitty attitude lasted through the week. Normally we took turns cooking dinner, but Sheila skipped her turns that week. I wasn't bothered by eating the previous night's leftovers.
My parents owned a cabin on a lake in the mountains. Nothing extravagant, two rooms and a loft. The bathroom was an outhouse up the hill. The cabin belonged to me and my two sisters who never went there. It held sentimental value to all of us so there was no interest in selling.
That Friday morning, I left Sheila a note that I was heading to the cabin right after work and would be home in time for dinner on Sunday. She sent me a text saying I better plan on cooking.
I had forgotten how much I enjoyed the mountains although I spent most of the first 24 hours cleaning. It had been months since anyone stayed there and nature was invading. The canoe was past tense, and the dock scared me so there wasn't going to be any fishing. I worked my ass off and was pleasantly sore when I drove home on Sunday and arrived just in time for our Sunday chat. Of course I stopped to eat on my way home.
Sheila opened with the Lexus again and why wouldn't I help her to be happy.
"Sheila, we've been married for twenty something years and you should know by now that I don't change my mind once it's made up and you haven't presented any arguments that would even suggest I should. Unless you are going to change the subject of these Sunday chats, you're going to be talking to yourself."
"You're such an asshole Brad, why did I stay married to you for so long?"
"My thoughts exactly Sheila, now if there's nothing else, I need a real shower."
"You better plan on doing your own laundry from now on too."
"Sheila, I been doing my own laundry for the last decade and the family bath towels. Whose laundry have you been doing besides your own, because if it's another man, get him to pay for your Lexus."
The bedroom door slammed again.
Sheila stopped bring up the Lexus on our Sunday chats and shifted to getting the inside of the house painted which devolved into a conversation on whether to replace the furniture first.
"The furniture doesn't need to be replaced Sheila."
"We've had the same sofa for ten years; I want a new stuff."
"Again, another want, not a need. You pay to have your wants satisfied and as far as painting is concerned, I'm going to be busy fixing up the cabin for the next couple of months, the damn dock is ready to fall into the lake."
"Why should I care about the cabin Brad?"
"It's an asset that we are part owners of and like any asset, it needs to be maintained in order to hold its value."
"And are your sisters going to contribute to these costs?"
"Of course, they offered to each pay half for the supplies of any jobs I do myself. I don't think I'll take on the dock, so we'll split those three ways."
I spent most of the summer at the cabin, more to get away from Sheila. The kids began joining me when they came home for the summer. Sheila tabled our Sunday chats until they went back to school. I was due to retire in a couple of years and the idea of retiring to the cabin became very appealing. Especially since Sheila decided early on that she was more of a Hilton type girl and not suited for a cabin.
Once the kids were back on their campuses, Sheila wanted to resume our Sunday chats. They turned into Sheila bitch sessions about all my sins that I committed. She had to take the trash out because I was up at the cabin. When I came home I occupied the washer and dryer. More and more of the household chores were becoming her responsibility. I wasn't sure what she was talking about there. It was on the third or fourth of our renewed chat sessions that I learned to shut up and let her vent. My mind was usually thinking about the cabin and the problem with mice.
The worst part was when the winter set in. The cabin had a fireplace, but it was never intended to be used during the winter. That meant more quality time with the lovely Sheila and our Sunday chats. Sheila was frequently noticing my lack of attention and my complete lack of responses. Fortunately, the kids came home for the holidays, and I had a reprieve until February. I prayed that she had forgotten about them, but my prayers went unanswered when I was summoned to the kitchen.
"When are you going to start painting the rooms I want redone Brad?"
"Sounds like another want Sheila and is there a reason you can't repaint the rooms?"
"But you always do the painting around here, why are you going to be such a dick about this?"
"Well Sheila, these Sunday chats have made me rethink a lot of things. Obviously when the kids were small you had most of the responsibility for them. Of course, I was the one who took them to every practice, lesson and game."
"But you were their coach, you had to go."
"We're on a tangent here Sheila. Painting is your 'want' and you are responsible for your 'wants,' paint it yourself or hire a contractor, of course you'll be financially responsible for all the costs."
The bedroom door slammed again. Sheila argued the painting issue the next three Sunday chats and I had more and more trouble paying attention. Once I was able to get back to the cabin my attention span was that of a child which was why I really pissed her off one night.
Sheila was talking and I was thinking about getting the cabin fumigated to get rid of the mice when she slammed the table.
"Damn it Brad, are you even listening to me. I just said I think we should open our marriage, and you sat there staring into space. Well, what do you think?"
"Are your serious or are you fucking with me?"
"Yes, I'm serious Brad. How did we stay married this long?"
"Was that a rhetorical question or do you really want an answer? And are there any ground rules to this open marriage thing? I can imagine you wouldn't want me bringing any women home with me and are there any women you consider off limits. Like your friend Stacy whose been hitting on me for a decade and getting bolder every year. Did you see how she grabbed my ass while we were under the mistle toe last Christmas and what about Melinda, she's a little more subtle but more my type."
"They are both ten years younger than you and I don't care who you hook up with. Besides it's much easier for a woman to find a sex partner than a man!"
"Sheila, in general you are probably right. But I weigh almost the same as I did when we got married and my pants still have the same waist size. I still have most of my hair. You've easily put on 50 pounds or more since then and how many dress sizes? Not to mention the bingo arms and saggy tits. I'm sure you'll find some drunken fool looking for a wet hole, but none of your partners will be a step up from me. Whereas the two woman I just mentioned are way out of your league."
The bedroom door slammed again behind a crying Sheila. Maybe I was a little mean, but I was flabbergasted by her suggestion to open our marriage. Then I started thinking about Diane, the blonde who owned the cabin near mine, I never saw a man with her, and she was always very friendly with me when our paths crossed.
Sheila brought it up again on the following Sunday, again she said she didn't care who I fucked. I told her I wanted her proposed ground rules in writing and signed because when this blew up in her face, she wouldn't be able to throw it in my face in divorce court. She didn't care about any ground rules. I said no partners in the house, I'm sure you don't want to see Melinda running around in a little nighty. So that was our only ground rule.
My company had what they called flex hours; I could work four ten hour days or whatever as long as I had my 40 in and my jobs were on schedule. It was never an option for me with the boys sport schedules but now it was ideal, I could be on my way to the cabin on Thursday night. I sent Sheila a text to let her know I would be leaving for the cabin on Thursday from now on. The outcome of our Sunday chats to improve our communication meant that most of our communication was now through text messages. Since cell service pretty much sucked at the cabin, I had three days away from Sheila. Before I left on Thursday she sent me a text saying she was going out on Friday. I ignored it.
On Saturday of that weekend, I saw the Diane, the blonde from the next cabin waving at me and thought I heard her call for help. Walking to her cabin was a trek uphill through the woods so I jumped in my jeep and drove over there. One of her cedar roofing shingles had blown off during a storm and she had stepped on it, putting a nail through her foot. We wrapped an ace bandage around her foot to stabilize it and I was able to scoop her up and put her in my Jeep. While helping her get settled I realized that she was really pretty.
While sitting with Diane in the waiting room, my phone started exploding. I burst out laughing when I opened a text from my wife's friend Sandy.
"Sheila said you guys have decided to open your marriage. If that's true, when can we get together, you know how long I've been trying to seduce you!"
The next one was from Melinda, "I was looking over Sandy's shoulder while she was typing that text, I want first dibs. Sheila said you told her that I was more your type. You are certainly my type and would love to spend a long weekend at your cabin and I don't care about outhouses."
There were the same kind of texts from women I barely knew or didn't know.
Diane asked me what was so funny.
