Amicable No More

I tried to write a flash story - if you are familiar with some of my other works, you know that often my stories are pretty long. So I kept this at three pages - which is about as "flashy" as I'm probably going to get.

This is also my first "BTB" entry. I have been criticized before because the cheater didn't get caught. So I tried a bit of a different take on it, although I find most of my different takes have been done by other people before.

As always, my stories are complete works of fiction, and all persons are of legal age. Your votes and comments are important to me, so after you read it, please share with me!

*****

It's 9:00 p.m. on a Saturday night, and I'm sitting alone in my favorite bar. I've been here by myself for about 30 minutes, still nursing my first beer. My FWB is out, spending her evening trying to get fucked by another man, and has promised to come back to join me at the bar to tell me about it when she's done. Doesn't sound like a very good scenario, does it?

It sounds worse when I tell you that it was her idea, and that I supported her decision. I'm not a cuckold - in fact, I'm far from it. But when the topic of revenge is so prevalent on your mind, I guess you sometimes resort to agree to things that normally would never be acceptable. This is one of those cases.

I know it's a little confusing, so to tell this story, I think I need to go back to the beginning so you can see the big picture and why this needs to play out in the fashion we have planned. It starts out as a true love story, but you will see before I finish that apparently only one was in love, and that one was me.

My name is Ken Singleton, and I am probably the most average guy you've ever met. I was raised in a small rural town a few miles outside of Omaha - close enough that we could enjoy all the bigger city had to offer, but far enough to maintain a simple lifestyle. My parents had a true Middle American relationship - loving and supporting each other and their children (I have a younger brother), and raising us to know the difference between right and wrong. They followed us to every school event in which we participated (which in a small town school was most of them) and encouraged us to be strong in going after what we want, but not in a sense that we would burn other people in doing so.

I didn't always see eye to eye with my parents, but by the time I headed to Lincoln for college, I realized that I needed to strive to find a partner that would allow me to have the same kind of relationship they did. Because of that, I really didn't look at the thousands of young women who attended the University of Nebraska as potential fuck partners. I was looking for my future wife, and would take the appropriate time necessary to make it happen.

That girl turned out to be Naomi Simpson, a pretty brunette nursing major from Lincoln. I mentioned before that I was an average guy, but when Naomi and I started dating, I definitely was stepping up out of my class. In my eyes, she was beautiful - just a couple of inches shorter than my 5'10" height, with pretty green eyes and dimples when she smiled. She carried just a bit of extra weight around, but it was well placed, giving her what appeared to be soft curves in the right places.

We had a general freshman language class together, and the professor was anal enough that we sat in alphabetical order from the first day, meaning Simpson sat to the left of Singleton. That first greeting when she sat next to me is still etched deep into my heart. I fell hard for her, so when I asked her to join me in the union for a soda after class, I was elated when she agreed. That was the beginning of a courtship that went on all through college. We agreed to put off a wedding until after we graduated, but for all intents and purposes, we were a couple all the way through, even moving into an apartment at the start of our junior year.

We married in her family's big church in Lincoln, which was only about 90 miles from where I grew up, so I had a nice contingent of family and friends supporting me. Following our honeymoon, we lived in Omaha, where she went to work as an ER nurse, while I had landed a job as a civic engineer for a local company. Because she was a new employee, Naomi started out working on the night shift, which meant that for three or four nights a week, I was in bed by myself. But we more than made up for it the nights we had home together. It seems I had married the perfect partner, just like I had planned all along.

Because of the difference in our shifts, we had decided to put off having kids for a while, which allowed us to build some savings for the time when one of us decided to stay home and raise them. Naomi grew to love working the night shift, since she didn't have to deal with what she called the "politics" of the day shift when specialty services and administrators were around to interfere with her nursing care. She had passed up several opportunities to switch to days, but after we discussed each one, we agreed to have her stay where she was.

After ten years of marriage to Naomi, I began to sense that maybe I wasn't in an idyllic marriage after all. I was more than ready to start a family, reasoning that I still wanted to be young enough when our kids were in high school to be able to participate in family activities. A little math told me that if we waited much longer, we might not start having grandkids until we were late 50's or 60's. Naomi didn't agree, saying that she had so much invested in her nursing career that she wasn't ready to give it up to raise a family. It got to the point that whenever I tried to bring it up, I was shut down immediately.

I began noticing other changes about the same time. When I'd get home from work on the evenings that she had to go work her shift, we'd usually have 30 minutes to see each other, and while that wasn't enough time for full blown sex, we could get pretty intimate, using that to tide us over until she was on days off. By this time, those 30 minutes had regressed to the point that she didn't want me bothering her while she was preparing to go to work. Our intimate time together was now just a quick kiss on the cheek as she went out the door.

I still loved her deeply, and still wanted to spend the rest of my life with her. But I hated the direction in which we were moving. So I waited until we both had a couple of days off together. I booked a two-night stay in a bed and breakfast just across the border in Iowa, hoping we could rekindle what we had lost. When she came home from work that morning, I sprung it on her, hoping she could see my efforts to give us some important time with each other, away from the pressures of our job, where we could focus on us.

Turns out that didn't suit her at all. She didn't get angry with me, but I could tell that she wasn't going to go. She led me into our living room and told me to sit. An ache in the pit of my stomach started forming, and for the first time, I had a feeling my marriage was in serious trouble.

"Ken, this is going to be difficult," she said. "I hate that I need to have this conversation with you, but it has to happen." She swallowed and looked away from me as she continued. "I don't think I'm in love with you anymore. I still love you, and part of me always will. But I'm beginning to see that staying in love with you is not possible anymore."

She paused, and I let those words sink in. My first thought was deep sadness, since I knew she was the one I wanted spend the rest of my life with, and her announcement let me know that she didn't feel the same way. I began to feel anger well up inside of me, but I knew that a screaming match with each other would do no good. So as calmly as possible, I knew I needed to find out why.

I asked, "How long have you felt this way, Naomi? I knew that things had been different for us than they were when we were first married. What changed?"

She sighed and looked back at me. "I'm not sure that anything has changed, Ken. I just don't know that I've ever loved you as much as you love me. I know that sounds awful, and the last thing I want to do is hurt you. I guess if I look back at it from the beginning, I could see that you were - and still are - an incredible man, with so much love to give. I think I figured that I would eventually find the same love for you that you had for me. Now I'm not sure that is ever going to happen."

So my marriage was a fraud from the beginning. It became harder to keep my anger in check, to the point that my hands started shaking as I sat on the couch. The next questions I asked were induced by the anger that was growing by the second.

"So you've found someone else, and decided that you can love him more than you can love me?"

She looked away again - question answered. "Yes, Ken - there is someone that I've been talking with, and it seems that he and I have more common life philosophies than you and I do."

What the hell? How much time to you spend with a guy before you determine your life philosophies are in common? I thought of her night schedule at the hospital, and immediately wondered if common philosophies meant that she'd found an ER doctor that was available when she was.

My next question was laced with pure anger. "So you're telling me that you've found some young hot doctor and you're cheating on me."

She quickly turned and replied, "That's not it, Ken - in fact, he's not a doctor at all, nor does he even work at the hospital. He's our tax accountant. Actually you told me to find him, although at the time I didn't realize I would be finding the man with which I would fall in love. You told me to handle the taxes since I had days off during the week and it would be better if you didn't have to miss work.

"The first several years were all business, but after a while we got to know each other enough that we could both see a spark there. It progressed to where we'd grab lunch with each other - again, only business, and only during tax season. But I finally realized that I had more than just professional feelings about him, and it turns out he felt the same way. Lunches began to happen after tax season was over, and I got extremely comfortable with him, to the point that I felt like I could tell him anything."

By this time we both had tears in our eyes, and I could tell that her decision was a long time in the making, which made me even sadder. With the last bit of anger inside me, I lashed out with one more pointed question.

"Does he fuck you better than I do?"

She sobbed and shook her head no. "Ken, please - I haven't slept with him yet. This isn't about sex at all. Believe it or not, I still love you enough that I didn't want to hurt you by sleeping with him while you and I were still together. It's hard enough already seeing how much pain I'm putting you through. Adding that would have been even more cruel."

At this point, I was numb from the anger, dwelling instead on the pain she mentioned, so I didn't know whether I believed her or not. The pain I felt was the worst of my life by far, but I knew I had to do something. Would it do me any good to plead with her to reconsider? I didn't think so, but I had to try.

I stood up and walked over to her, face to face, and asked, "Is there any way you're wrong on this, and that it's just a passing fancy that you'll outgrow? I'm not happy that you've even found a guy with which to get this close, but if you haven't slept with him yet, I'm willing to fight for you and try to repair what I thought we had together."

She stepped closer to me, putting a hand on my arm and leaning her head against my shoulder. "I'm sorry, Ken - as much as I hated to tell you this, now that I have there is no going back. Please don't hate me, although I understand why you would."

I turned from her and headed into our bedroom. I grabbed our two suitcases and started filling them. I half expected her to follow me in, but she chose to let me do this myself. After filling the suitcases and a bag with my toiletries, I started lugging them to my car. I knew I would have to come back eventually to get the rest of my things. But what I had would tide me over for a while until I had more permanent plans in place.

Naomi was still standing there as I headed to the door. She was still crying, which I thought was melodramatic, since she was getting what she wanted. A part of me wondered if her tears were because she still loved me at least a little bit, enough that the pain she knew I was feeling after being blindsided was causing her pain as well.

I stopped at the door and turned back to her. "Are you going to file, or do you want me to?"

Through tear-filled eyes, she answered, "No, I'll take care of it. It's the least I can do. Ken, I promise that I'm not going to come after you, trying to get all I can. Let's make this the least painful we can. Please let me know where you end up, so I can have the papers delivered to you there. I don't want to embarrass you at work in front of your colleagues."

I shook my head and walked out of my house for the last time as a resident. I was going through the typical stages one does when a split like this happens - was I not good enough for her? Was I bad in bed? Did I not pay enough attention to her? Were my expectations for children too high? How long had she not loved me anymore? Why couldn't I see this before it happened?

The process went smoothly. She had me served as soon as I moved into my new apartment. It was as amicable as a divorce could be, I suppose. I'm sure some of my friends felt I should have fought her, to try to get more than my fair share since she was the one doing the harming of our marriage. But Nebraska was a no-fault state, and even if it wasn't, I was mature enough to see that she didn't want to be married to me anymore, so what was the point in fighting?

There was a 60 day waiting period after I was served, followed by 30 days after the divorce was granted before it took full effect. Neither of us could marry for six months following the final divorce, but that certainly wasn't going to be a problem with me, since I had no desire to even think about marriage again. Instead I developed an unhealthy routine of hiding in my apartment after work and on weekends. I wasn't ready to try and find another woman, since the pain of the divorce was still too raw in my mind.

Fortunately, my family and friends were supportive, eventually encouraging me to start living again. I knew they were right. I needed to quit wallowing in the self-pity that had consumed me since that day with Naomi when my marriage ended. I found a trendy sports bar in a strip mall about a block from my apartment. After a few visits there, it started to feel good to come in and spend some time watching games with friends. Eventually I started spending three or four nights a week watching games and enjoying the fellowship of others like me.

I also met the next woman in my life there, although at the time I still had no desire to date again. Shannon changed all of that. She was one of the regular bartenders, and it was easy to see that all of the customers loved her - even the wives and girlfriends of some of the guys who would bring them in. She was always smiling, and it was infectious. For the first time since my split, I was smiling and laughing whenever I was around her at the bar.

One quiet Wednesday evening, she came over to me. "Okay, Ken. You've been a customer here long enough. What's your story? Why did you suddenly become one of our most regular of regulars?"

I had told my story to family and friends, so telling her was not a problem. She listened as I went over what had happened, pausing me to occasionally ask a question from time to time. I could tell she had a sympathetic ear, and was genuinely concerned as I relayed the pain I felt when I found out my marriage was going to be terminated.

When I was done, she patted me on the hand and said, "I'm sorry, Ken. It's too bad she didn't save you a lot of years thinking your life was perfect by telling you all of that sooner. It may be hard to believe, but the pain will get better. I know it has in my life, so I know you will get over it as well."

It seemed like a harsh thing to say, and she could see the surprise in my face, so she proceeded to tell me her story. Like me, she and her husband met in college, but he was a senior when she was a freshman. He got his business degree and headed for a job in Kansas City, pleading with her to drop out of school and join him so they could get married. She did, and for a few years it seemed they were happy. But when he confessed to her that not only was he having an affair with his administrative assistant but that she was also pregnant and he was the father, she left immediately. She came out nicely in the divorce, including receiving some alimony. She was tending bar now since she had dropped out of college and had no real marketable skills.

I could see traces of the pain in her eyes as she shared with me, but her divorce happened two years before mine, so she was pretty well over it. For now, she was happy tending bar and enjoying the customers who appreciated how friendly she was to them. It was easy to see why they liked her. She was beautiful, with a bubbly personality. But it was the smiles she gave, plus the fact that she seemed to care more for her customers than she needed to, that really made her stand out. I knew it was working on me, even though I had sworn off any relationships with women for the time being.

Over the next few weeks, the pain began to fade somewhat, and Shannon was a big part of that. Maybe I was just imagining things, but it appeared to me that on the nights she was working, she seemed to pay a bit more attention to me than she did with the other customers. She didn't neglect them in any way, but when she had a free minute, she would come down to my end of the bar and chat with me. I felt a little like Norm from "Cheers" - I had my regular seat at the bar, and she tried to keep it open for me before I came in.

It was about a year after my divorce was final that two extraordinary things happened to me. The first was the acceleration of my relationship with Shannon. I had made myself a New Year's resolution to start looking into the dating scene again, and on a Friday evening I had boldly asked Shannon if she was in the market for a boyfriend.

She smirked at me and said, "Let me deliver these drinks, and then I'll come back and talk."

That didn't do my confidence any good, so when she returned, I wasn't thrilled with my chances. She came over close so I could hear over the noise in the bar and said, "I'm going to be straight with you, Ken. I like you a lot, but I'm not really in the market for a relationship. The last one sucked so much that I'm not sure I ever will be."

I stared at her as I asked, "So does that mean you don't plan on having any...shall we say "adult" fun in your life?"

She grinned. "You're so cute sometimes! I have plenty of adult fun. I have a couple of "friends with benefits" that I get with when I need adult fun, as you call it. It's purely for sex - we try to keep any feelings out of it, so it doesn't get complicated. I'm not sure you're the kind of guy that would be interested in something like that, and I'm not the kind of girl that is looking for anything involving feelings right now."

The she smiled at me and put her hand over mine. "But if you're interested in learning more about an FWB relationship, I know the girl that could show you what it's all about."

She walked away to tend to other customers. For the first time in a long time, I looked at her as a sexy woman first, and not just as a potential life partner. She was right - I would have never considered an FWB in my life, because I thought it wasn't necessary once I met Naomi. But I asked myself what the harm would be, since I certainly wasn't getting any sex other than by my own hand, and Shannon had just indicated to me that I probably could. Realizing that I couldn't think of any harm at all, I decided to see if Shannon was just being nice, or if she really wanted to teach me about being a friend with benefits.