It is hard to say exactly when I started realizing that my marriage was going south. I think it might have been the night of our honeymoon. I had always been of the impression that she enjoyed our sex life, but the night of our honeymoon there was no a moan nor a whimper from her as I attempted to satisfy her orally.
The intercourse was just as cool and I felt as if I had purchased an inflatable doll for the purposes of my relief.
We talked about it a few days later and she confessed that she always thought that oral sex was repulsive and actually hinted at the fact that I might be a little sick for wanting to fulfill a woman's needs in this manner. I had always confessed to her that my greatest thrill was to watch her face and feel her body as I went down on her and she achieved orgasm.
After our conversation I did feel rather belittled by the fact that she felt I was sick for wanting to please women orally. Our sexual encounters became less and less until I finally could not remember the last time that we had had physical contact.
A friend of mine, whom I had dated a few years earlier, was bisexual and she had married a man whom I liked and thought was a good husband. I had not stayed in touch with Karla for some time since I didn't know how her husband felt about our past relationship. I did email her, however, and told her that I wanted to talk to her. She gave me her work number and I called her the following week.
"How have you been, Karla?" I asked her when she answered the phone, not giving my name.
"Yep," I replied.
"It's great to hear your voice," she said, "What's up?"
I laughed. Always straight to the point.
"Nothing, I just wanted to know how you were."
"Bullshit," she said, "I know you better. Three years and now an email you want to talk to me?"
"Well, I am kind of going through a rough time in my marriage," I admitted, "our sex life sucks."
I waited for a response but got none, so I continued.
"She hates oral sex and thinks I am bizarre for enjoying performing it so much."
"What?" Karla finally interjected, "Do you remember what I said to you one time?"
"I don't know which time you are talking about,, but I do remember you said I ate pussy better than any woman you had ever been with," I said.
"Exactly," she laughed, "I thought you would remember that, and for you to be with a woman that doesn't appreciate your talents is a waste."
"So what? Get a divorce?"
"Perhaps," she said, "at least look to get a girlfriend. And I am not applying for the job. I am very happy with David."
"I know," I said, "I'll think about what you said, and thanks for the words of encouragement."
After I hung up the phone I started thinking about what she said. My defensive attitude changed to one of anger. I decided that I was going to take Karla's advice, not about getting divorced, but about getting a girlfriend.
The next day at work I had a different attitude. I had always looked away when Debbie, the cashier in the stockbrokerage office I worked for, had looked at me. I had known that look before, in my single days. It had been an invitation to something more. Not a cup of coffee more, a cup of nectar much sweeter than any coffee or wine. I had gone through years of this and had sworn that cup was put away forever. I had gone through years of meaningless relationships and copulations without remembering names. I had thought that marriage would put an end to that. How wrong I had been.
That morning when I went to get my daily customer runs from the cashier, I had locked eyes with Debbie instead of looking away. She seemed amazed and continued to stare. Finally she smiled.
"How's everything at home?"
I smiled and went back to my office.
The phone rang when I got back.
"Tom Henry," I answered, expecting it to be a client.
"Are you okay?" Debbie's voice was on the other end.
"Sure," I lied, "why wouldn't I be?"
"Call it woman's intuition."
"Don't you have to be a woman to have that?" I laughed.
"Twenty-two is not a woman?" she scorned.
"It is to a twenty-two year old boy," I said. The truth was that our thirty year difference in age made me feel very defensive. I assumed I had made subconsciously to make her angry so I could quit this stupid game before it got started. I expected an angry retort but got none.
"You're right," she said, "I still have much to learn about being a woman."
I could hear myself actually gulp into the phone. The receiver was getting slippery in my hand from the perspiration.
"I guess I need a teacher," she whispered.
