THE MODERN WAY
It was a pretty normal Saturday. Early June, sunny and warm already, not much to do except take a run, work in the yard, and have dinner with friends later that day. I noticed the corner of an envelope sticking out of a book on the night stand. Unthinking, I opened the book and picked up the envelope. There was no name on the outside but simply the number 2 written in the center of the smaller than normal size envelope. Casually I opened it and slid out a three by five card. There on the card was the 2, then the words, "Same time, same place?"
I stood looking at the card and the words written there, and the 2. It was printed in a masculine penmanship. The book had been on Claire's side of the bed. Instead of going on my run, I sat in the backyard on the tire swing hanging from the oak tree and thought about the note. When Claire came out to do her gardening wearing cloves and a hat with dark glasses, I got off the tire and got my gloves and hoe, put on my glasses and my Dodger hat.
All throughout the day the words SAME TIME, SAME PLACE kept going through my mind. I could get that note and those words out of my head. We were expecting to leave for the Brook's house at five. Finally, I could not resist any longer, so I said, "Same time, same place?"
The words struck her like a blow to the gut. She was on her knees, weeding, and dropped to hands and knees as if she was struck from behind. Finally, she turned toward me and tears ran down her cheeks. "I'm sorry," she mouthed. Then she stood and ran into the house. I was up quickly and followed her through the door.
"It's not anything," she almost whispered. "Just...."
"Sex?" I said. I called the Brooks and said we would not be coming to dinner. "Something had come up," I said without further explanation.
She nodded. "I am not doing enough?" I asked, putting down the phone.
"That's not it," she whispered. "It's just... "
"Different?"
She nodded without speaking. Neither of us said anything for a long time. "I think I understand," I finally said. "Surprisingly exciting?" I asked. She again nodded. "It was just seductive, like a magnet pulling you in?" I said. She just smiled, a painful and pitiful smile. "What do you want to do?" I asked.
"I don't know," she said. After a few seconds she said, "Well, I don't want to lose us. About Grant? I don't know. Does it sound too crazy to say, 'it doesn't mean anything?'"
"I do understand. I think. You just got caught up in the sexual excitement of it, right?" Her eyes gave an answer, but she didn't nod or say anything. "The important thing is you want to stay married to me. That is all I care about. So?"
"I never doubted that," she said. "I hope you can believe me. I just got so turned on by someone else desiring me," she said. "I have no excuse. I became like a high school girl with a crush. I am so sorry. I've let you down," she said sadly. "And you? Do you still want to be married to someone who has cheated on you?"
"You do not have to win my love," I said. "I do not own you. If you are attracted to someone else, and you do not want to leave, you don't have to have my forgiveness. You already have it," I said. "I love you," I said. "No conditions. No stipulations. I just do."
"You don't hate me for having sex with someone else?" she asked.
"I couldn't hate you for any reason," I said. "You are a wonderful companion, a generous person, and I am lucky to have you in my life," I said. She kissed me and said how lucky she was.
"If I told you that you could continue to see him, what would you say?" I asked.
"I would say you're crazy," she said with a smile.
"But it is the modern way," I said. "Many couples today live open marriages. I have researched it. There are swingers, polyamorous families, and women who take lovers. I could love you and still give you the freedom to be who you are sexually. You think you could love me and fuck someone else?" I asked.
"I have," she said, her face brightening.
"I have suspected," I said. "Could you share it with me? I have heard of women who describe to their husbands what they did with their lovers. Could you do that? It may be exciting," I said. "It would just be sex," I said smiling.
"You would like that?" she asked.
"I think so," I said. "I have jacked off to thoughts of you. It was exciting, like I am doing it with you. I have imagined him fucking you, eating you, and making you squirt. I have loved it," I said. "Imagining it. I have even thought of watching."
"Watching?" she said.
"Seeing him fucking you," I said.
"You think you could do that?" she said.
"I do," I said. "I talked to a man who watches his wife all the time," I added. "He said he lives for it now. They even go looking for lovers for her. He tells me it is the best part of their sex now. He says that it brought them closer together. He says it is the best thing they've ever done. He thinks it added years to their marriage."
She listened and her smile grew more tortured. "You mean I could keeping seeing him and telling you about it, or letting you watch and you'd like it. You would need equal opportunity fucking? You wouldn't want to just fuck other ladies? That would be only fair."
"It could happen. That would be equitable, but it is not necessary. That depends on your feelings about what you want."
"Maybe I could," she said. "I don't know. Possibly."
"I think we should try it," I said. "At least for you. I think you should keep that date. 'Same time. Same place'. Then I'd like you to tell me exactly what he did to you, and what you did to him. Let me share it with you. It turns me on to think about. I think that is what love really is, the ability to let go of possessive feelings."
She looked at me and smiled. The smile said lots of things, but mostly it said she understood. It also said 'thank you.' We held one another for awhile. "I am excited about doing something new," I said.
