Ninth date

Another business trip -- a legitimate trip, this time -- and of course D joined me. I flew out the weekend before my first meeting, so we met Friday night at the airport in the faraway city. And at this point we are settling into enough of a pattern during these trips that I'm not sure how much there is to report. D herself commented that we haven't had any major emotional blowups in half a year or more; I think she is right, and I attribute this to our getting to know each other better, and to each of us getting more secure in the relationship. (I am now, as Robert Benchley once wrote, knocking wood so hard that the man in the next room just said, "Come in.") She also commented -- and here too I have to agree -- that the sex continues to get better and better. I credit her with how good it is; she credits me. It's a pleasant combination.

So what did we do with our time, besides fuck? Not a lot. Walked around downtown checking out used book stores, went to a matinee performance of a new play (and not a terribly successful one, I think), ate, talked. Always talked. She stayed over Monday, so we had one more night together after my day at work. And then it was over, all too soon. It is getting harder to see these trips end ....

And of course as soon as she left our correspondence picked right up again. I went to another play the night before I flew home, packed my bag, and then heard -- just as I was settling into bed -- someone out in the hall pound loudly on the door next to mine and bellow "Does anybody want to party?!!!" I stuck my head out of my room (clad only in my underwear, as I had packed most everything else) and asked if they could keep it down. I got a brief "Sorry" from a kid in sweats and no shirt holding a bottle of beer, as a similarly-beer-laden young lady walked between us into the room. (The young lady had a shirt, however.) I wrote D with some amusement that it would have been really practical to have her there, because her grey hair commands instant attention in a setting like that; anyone under the age of about 30 seems to think suddenly that he is talking to his grandmother. I was even more amused by her reply: "Loud neighbors in a hotel can be difficult, but I suppose we should realize that we may have been that couple who caused others close to us to lose some sleep on a couple occasions. A bit of shame-faced laughter here." OK, true enough. (smile)

When I got home, the boys both assured me that everything had gone on an even keel in my absence. I sat down to check in with Wife, and she asked me how my trip had been. I said it was fine and sketched out the parts that didn't involve D.

And then sure enough, Wife's very next question was: "How is D?"

Hosea: [Pause.] I don't know, why don't you call her and ask?

Wife: Well I know you are in touch with her a lot, so I thought you could tell me how she is. I know she texts you a lot, and I assume you talk to her on your phone when you go out for those long walks on the weekends.

I wasn't going to deny anything, but neither did I really feel I needed to volunteer anything; so I acknowledged "We talk," and then asked, "What are you getting at?"

Wife: I don't know. It just seems to me that D is behind a lot of the changes in the house since she was here.

Hosea: Like what?

Wife: Well, like all the vegetarian cooking, and the looking for local free-range meat instead of the cheaper factory-raised meat. In all the years we were together before, you never ever cooked like that. But I know those things are big priorities for D, and you started cooking that way after she visited here. [Then, in a much smaller voice, she added:] And before her visits you still used to tell me you loved me, too.

From there Wife rapidly shifted the topic to a (louder and more self-confident) denunciation of D's throwing away so much of the accumulated stuff in our house (see, e.g., Second Date), and I told her this was ancient history by now. But for a brief moment I found myself wondering whether the reason Wife rehashes so strenuously her resentment over the discarded things might be that the personal side of the changes D has brought about -- most pointedly, losing our marriage* -- is too painful and frightening to look at squarely. In other words, ironically, she might emphasize the things not because she thinks they are more important than the human side, but because they are less important.

I don't know, of course. It is just a thought.


* I should clarify that I have never told Wife openly about my relationship with D, and she has never made any overt accusations. But obviously she can read a calendar, and she has been able to watch the climate at home change. I suspect she may blame D for being a cause and not merely a trigger, but that is a discussion for another time.