"Are you trying to tell me you are having an affair?"

The flight back from International City was a long one, and I didn't sleep very well. On top of that, I didn't fly into home because I couldn't find a flight with a decent schedule; so I landed in a big city a good two hours away by car. I probably could have made the drive if I had pushed myself, but I was also thinking of visiting my brother, who lives en route between those two termini: this airport and my house. We don't get a chance to see each other often, and he has just recently moved -- and hell, I never even saw his last place. High time to remedy the situation.

So I got directions and drove over to see him. His place took a little hunting to find -- some of the streets are strange and narrow -- but I finally got there. He was home (because he works irregularly) but his girlfriend -- oops, fiancee -- was still at work. So he let me in, opened us a couple of beers, and we chatted.

I've told you that it has bothered D that I have told no-one of my family or friends about her, literally no-one except the Consultant. She got to the point of more or less asking me if I could tell anybody, because she said it made her feel like a ghostly presence in my life that I hadn't. And I mentioned that I could probably tell Brother safely. Also, I have found that it really is hard to carry on a simple conversation about what's been going on in my life when I can't even mention the biggest topic that is going on at all. So I figured that if an opportunity came up, I would say something. Sure enough, after a while we started talking about vacations and Brother asked if I ever take any vacation time. So I mentioned that I don't take much time in blocks, but I may add a day onto the beginning or end of a business trip as vacation: to do some sightseeing, to wander around being a tourist, or to spend time with this friend of mine who oddly enough has to take time off of her work on exactly the same days to be able to meet me in a city where neither of us lives. (Yeah, it was a little awkward. Actually it didn't come out even that smoothly, but that's what I was aiming at.)

And Brother asked me, quite naturally, "Are you trying to tell me you are having an affair?"

"Ummm ... yes."

I think this was not the kind of news he was expecting from me. (My family tends to have a fairly straight-arrow image of me, probably because I am stuffy and boring.) He did say that this called for another beer for each of us. But in some ways his response was dispassionate. There was none of the enthusiasm D described hearing from her sister at the same news, for example, although Brother did acknowledge that the relationship between Wife and me could hardly be called "marriage" and that this had been true for quite some time. He asked if I was happy with D, and I said yes. He asked how we met, and I explained that she used to be Wife's friend and colleague. He asked what I think the future will look like, and I sketched out the scenario I have described for you: that I will stay with Wife for another year and a half, till Son 2 goes away to high school, and then that we divorce as amicably as we can (if that's possible at all). He asked if Wife wants to separate from me, and I explained that in past years she probably did but at this point she is probably afraid to. This guess of mine was consistent with his own assessment that she seems more fragile than she used to. He said he had already heard about the night that D and I sat up drinking wine with my parents; he quoted my father as saying “Hosea looked happier and more engaged than I have seen him for a long time.”

On the other hand, Brother also said that he didn't think he could tell his fiancee about my affair, because he didn't think she could "compartmentalize" the information as well as he could. He was not (as noted) terribly enthusiastic. And he concluded by saying he hoped I wouldn’t ask him and his fiancee to start being mean to Wife. He explained that they have tried to be kind or charitable to her because they realize she doesn’t have any friends: this does not mean taking her side in fights (Brother avoids taking anybody’s side in a fight, including his own if he can help it), but it means little things … such as that whenever his fiancee cleans out her closet, she looks through the discards for things Wife might like and offers them to her. I said I understood; and second, that of course I agreed it was sad that Wife had no friends (never mind that often this is because she drives them away or neglects them); and third, that I would never ask him or his fiancee to be cruel to anybody. I said, “Last time I checked, kindness was still a virtue”; and if the two of them can be kind to Wife, of course they should do it. For all I know, it will earn them crowns in heaven, and well-deserved.

I'm not completely sure how to summarize the conversation. On the one hand, he said he was glad I had found someone I am happy with, and that he had known for a long time that wasn't going to be Wife. On the other hand, there was something a little bloodless about the conversation. I don’t know if that was my fault (timidity, shyness), or if it was the result of his “compartmentalizing” the information. If the latter, then I suppose it is possible that he may have told me some part of his opinions but not all of them. I don’t know.

Still, I don’t regret telling him. It has always been very difficult for me to answer the question “So, what’s going on in your life?” when I haven’t been able to say what is really going on. And Brother and I have often had too superficial a relationship anyway. It has always felt uncomfortable to me when it was so. Getting over the initial hurdle was tough, because as you know it has always been tough for me to figure out how to make the conversation turn in that direction. But once I was past the fear of that first instant, it felt right to be able to talk about it. So I think in the end it was the right thing to do.

I slept the night at their place and left early the next morning to drive home. And soon it was the weekday again, and back to work ....

This is a brilliant advertisement

A friend of mine just sent me this. It's off-topic ... I have no idea what topic it belongs to ... but it leaves me thinking of the key lines from Sara Teasdale's "Barter" that I have (for now) posted on the left-hand sidebar.

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Spend all you have for loveliness --

Buy it and never count the cost!

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I hope you like it.

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Sixteenth date

Only a month after our last date, D and I met again, in International City. Two days, three nights, all over the weekend before my actual work started. Naturally Wife wondered why I had to be gone so long, and I tried to suggest that spending the weekend there would help me get over jet lag. Uh huh. I think this excuse is getting weaker and weaker, even though it turns out to be true.

Much of this date was like many of our others: we went to museums, we walked around, we discovered new restaurants, we talked endlessly, we fucked. So far, so good. Let me try to identify a couple of the points that were maybe a little different from the normal round.

D asked me if I had made any decisions on the question I described here. First I explained that Son 2 will definitely be attending the class at the Shakespeare Festival; then that Wife has said that as long as our finances are separated, she can't afford to go. D asked if I plan to pay for Wife to go there, and I said I hadn't decided yet. Then she asked if I had asked Wife about D herself also attending.

I fumbled a bit and then told her that I had asked the advice of some friends (that would be you) and had gotten several people all saying exactly the same thing, namely that it was a really bad idea. Why hadn't I told her before now? She proposed the theory that I had in fact already decided to pay Wife's way so we could make a lovely family event of it, and that I was being dishonest with her by not owning up. I tried to explain that no, I really haven't thought about it yet; I suggested that cowardice and dithering are better explanations for the delay. Well then, why at least didn't I tell her that all my friends thought it was a bad idea for her to join us there? After all, she added, she too had thought it was a bad idea (not that she said this at the time), so what was the big deal? Good question, I guess. We bickered about this for longer than we should have.

D also added that I have to assume Wife has been denigrating both of us to the boys consistently enough that I probably can't reveal the relationship right after separation, because her image will have been poisoned in their minds. She said I had better be prepared for it to be years, until the boys are older and can look at everything with different eyes ... and that our relationship will have to remain a clandestine affair till then.

In the process of bickering about this subject, as I explained myself by emphasizing my cowardice and indolence, I mentioned that when I sit down to write about what is going on in my life (meaning here) I often emphasize those parts of my character that are least admirable, as if I were setting out to look my worst instead of my best. I just tossed off the remark with an "Isn't that silly?"

D: Well, obviously you need a father confessor. You should look for a Jesuit.

Hosea: Yeah, right.

D: I'm serious. In fact there is a retreat house not too far from where you live, staffed by Jesuits. I looked it up to see if I might come out there some time, before ruling out any visits to your area. [She smiled.]

Hosea: Oh good. I can just see starting that conversation off. 'Father, there is this married woman I'm involved with, and I'm not treating her very well. How can I do better?'

D: And what do you suppose is the single most common thing they hear about in the confessional?

Hosea: I have no idea.

D: Infidelity. You're not going to shock anybody.

Hosea: Maybe not. But isn't there kind of a difference between 'not being shocked' and 'aiding and abetting'? I'd be looking for someone who didn't mind aiding and abetting our affair, after all.

D: That's why it has to be a Jesuit. They are uniquely good at ... ummm ... understanding how to engage with the World.

O-kay-y-y ....

Our last evening we went out drinking at a jazz club. Plenty of wine, lots of fun. Somewhere in the course of the evening I mentioned that if you handle it just right a MFM V-shaped triple can work out well enough, especially for the woman in the middle. Then I had to explain how I knew this (ancient history, back in the days of Boyfriend 1 and, later, Boyfriend 4) and D got very thoughtful. For a while she seemed concerned, as if sex with her (as just one person) might somehow be too boring for me. (As if sex with someone as passionate as D could ever be boring!) But I also think it set her to pondering. When we got back to the hotel, and had taken our clothes off, and were deeply enmeshed in each other, she suddenly said, "Open the door."

Huh?

"Open the door."

So I did. The hotel was silent, because it was so late. We didn't have an audience. And we wound up as passionately as ever. But later D simply said, "If I'm going to have to hide our love for years and years, until your boys grow up, then tonight I was prepared to show it off to anybody that walked by." Of course we are abroad here, so they would all have been strangers. And in any event nobody walked by.

But I have thought about that night a lot ever since then.

Meanness

I have come to realize that for some time now I've been gratuitously mean to Wife.  I'm ashamed of myself.  So this week I have been trying to be less mean ... maybe even a little bit kind.  Son2 is away for the week on a big school outing, so Wife and I have gone to the movies three nights this week.  It gave us a chance to see movies that the rest of the country saw months ago ... before the Oscar ceremonies for which they were nominated, instead of after.  But hey ... at least we finally got to see them.  And going to the movies together is something pleasant that Wife and I used to do long ago.

Somewhere midweek I also realized that trying to be nice to Wife meant I also felt less enthusiastic about seeing D again.  Not that Wife and I will ever be romantic again, to say nothing of sexual.  But it was a subtle shift, and I did notice it.

Of course it was a bad week to choose.  At the beginning of this week, one of D's students (high-school) dropped dead while relaxing with friends, for no discernable reason.  She called my cell phone at 1:00 in the morning beside herself with tears.  I tried to call back, but not very successfully.  There is only a small window of the day during which I can get through (because her class schedule is so nuts), and I didn't want to call her late at night because she works so hard anyway that she needs whatever little sleep she can get.  After a day or two, she told me specifically not to try to call her because she would be unreachable.  Needless to add, the school went through Hell all week.  Her students were distraught, weeping, questioning the meaning of life and death in the most anguished possible way.  It was awful. 

And of course I should have called.  I should have woken her up in the middle of the night.  When she told me not to call, I should have ignored the prohibition flagrantly.  She needed me, and not hearing from me just made an appallingly bad situation even worse.

Seems like I can't get away from being gratuitously mean nearly as easily as I thought.  Lucky for you that none of you has to live with me or be involved with me, huh?

Encouraging non-exclusivity? Why?

I was originally going to call this post, "Is infidelity a virtue?" before I decided that title would be way too misleading. And of course the answer to that question, as posed, has to be, "No, plainly not, not if you phrase the question like that." The failure to hold true to something (leaving it abstract), insofar as it is a failure, is nothing to be proud of.

Only I then have to question what is going on in the dark recesses of my mind, when D and I discuss the topic of sexual exclusivity vs non-exclusivity. I mentioned that we talked about it over a lot of wine during our most recent date. And we have discussed it at other times, too. More recently, we exchanged a few e-mails on the subject (though I'll be merciful and not quote them all here). And what I find when I watch myself during these discussions is that it is almost as if I am encouraging D to take another lover in addition to me. I tiptoe around it, and I hope I never say anything quite that bald. But I can tell that in my heart of hearts this is the direction my comments are tending. And I have to wonder why?

I have been mulling this for a while, and I have come up with answers at several different levels. "Different levels" sounds like some of these answers are a charade hiding others, like there are the real answers deep down and then excuses at a more visible surface level. But it doesn't feel quite like that. It feels, rather, like all these levels exist at once, more or less independently of each other -- like each reason is valid on its own, but then there is another one as well. Maybe this is what psychologists mean by calling a thing "overdetermined." Anyway, see what you think.

Generous reasons:

The reasons I offer at first, whenever the subject comes up and I try to say something cheery, are all about her. You have heard them before. One is that her sexuality is so overflowing, so radiant, so powerful and dynamic that it would be swinish of me to hoard it all for myself. In fact, considering how far apart we live, I would be worse than a pig ... most days I'd be a dog in the manger.

A second is that she spends a lot of time alone, and celibacy makes her sad and depressed. Of course we do our best to make up for the long periods of deprivation when we get together, but wouldn't she be happier if she had a lover nearby as well? I have no doubt that she has enough energy for two men, so it's not like she would get worn out that way.

Distrustful reasons:

Then there are reasons that don't sound so kind, and you have heard these before too. One is that I don't want to become D's "one-and-only" because that is too close to being a husband. I've discussed before the question whether D is somehow grooming me for marriage once Wife and I are divorced. And I have explained that I am not interested in that. If she had another lover besides me, she'd be less likely to put all her emotional eggs in one basket, less likely to invest all her hopes and dreams for the future in me. She says she doesn't do that now, but sometimes I have trouble believing her.

Another distrustful reason I have for encouraging D to take a second lover is that I figure she'll do it anyway, sooner or later. Obviously enough -- because we are both adulterers, aren't we? -- the mere fact that she promises me she'll never fuck another man isn't reason enough for me to assume she'll stick to it. But if she ever did fuck someone else, I figure she would never admit it. In the first place, she has kind of painted herself into a corner that way by repeating over and over how she is mine, all mine. In the second place, she is a gifted liar, so I assume that lying about her indiscretions is a way of life for her, ... as natural as breathing. I even wonder if there might not be some level at which she lies to herself about sex. Maybe not, of course -- D does seem to have an acutely developed sense of sin. But she has done an awful lot of fucking with a variety of different men for a girl who also calls herself a pious and devoted Catholic. Does she confess all of her encounters with due sorrow and repentance? I doubt it -- that would mean intending in her heart never to do it again, and I don't credit that for a moment. So how does she handle the cognitive dissonance? We have never discussed it, but I bet her masterful ability to conjure alternate truths out of thin air must be a big help to her in this endeavor. She has even told me, more than once, that if I ever were to fuck someone else, she doesn't want to know about it. I should lie to her, if I have to, rather than say anything.

The thing is, that model for a relationship absolutely doesn't work for me. A relationship based on lying is a relationship based on manipulation: neither one is love, in my book. By my lights, love means knowing and telling the truth, even if it is a hard truth ... it means wanting the other to know the truth and wanting to deal with hard truths rather than resting in comforting fantasies. So if D were going to find it difficult to stay chaste and "faithful" to me, I would rather she accept the discomfort of telling me about it than manipulate me with a lie. Since I take it for granted (perhaps unfairly) that a woman as overpoweringly sexual as D will sooner or later find it tough to stay "faithful" to me (especially as I live so many miles away, so how would I ever know?), I would prefer simply not to ask for "fidelity," rather than asking for it and setting us both up for failure. And I hope that one way to persuade her that she really does have "permission" when the time comes is to remind her of the fact now. (And then hell, if it turns out she has already got someone else too, maybe I can persuade her to own up to the fact.)

Selfish and sordid reasons:

I'm pretty sure you have heard all of these reasons before. I find that I rehash the same themes in this blog over and over. But recently I thought of another reason that hadn't occurred to me before, one more motive behind my encouraging D to look beyond me. I think at some level I want to use her as a proxy, so that she go live out an adventurous sex life that I am too shy and fearful to lead for myself ... quite regardless whether this is something she even wants to do. It disturbed me to realize this last part: that even if she didn't want any other lovers, there is still a corner of my mind that craves the sheer adventure which multiple lovers would entail, and which wants her to go out and have those adventures for me because I am too much the damned timid nebbish to do it myself. It's a highly unsavory thing to realize about myself. I am not at all proud of it. After my high-minded speech just above about the evils of a relationship based on manipulation, it is shameful and sordid to want to manipulate the woman I love into intensely powerful, affecting personal situations that she might not even welcome ... just to gratify my desires and my lusts by proxy, and all because I am too craven to gratify my own desires by myself. Disgraceful.

D says she just thinks I don't really know what I want, or at any rate I don't know what is good for me. That may well be true. But not long ago I had a flash of memory that made me realize I have been thinking about infidelity since long before any of Wife's affairs, back even before I ever had a girlfriend in the first place. I remember asking myself, What would I do if my girlfriend [who did not, at that point, exist] came to me and said she was also interested in someone else? And I remember feeling two distinct responses, superimposed on each other. One was deep anguish at the thought of the two of them laughing at me behind my back. (Compare, e.g., my remarks about being left out in part two of the essay that starts here.) But at the very same time I remember thinking, Well, if she still loves me, then it's better that we continue to love each other than to break it off and lose each other completely.

D says she thinks the problem is a poor self-image on my part, that I don't think I deserve more than a fraction of a woman's attention and favors. She might be right. But if she is, it's not because of psychological damage done by Wife. The thought patterns date back long before her.

It has not been a comfortable line of thought, but it has been an interesting and enlightening one.

Desert places

Her first few days back at work after our fifteenth date, while I was still at the office in Faraway City, D was having a tough time of things. Work was hard, she wanted to be with me instead of where she lives and works (hundreds of miles from Faraway City, and thousands of miles from where I live most of the time), the weather was crappy ... and in general life just sucked. So one day, right at the end of the week as I was about to fly home, she wrote me this:

I wish you were here, but I'm irritable and restless. I just want to sleep and avoid all my work because I feel less and less competent as the weeks roll by. This is an insanely difficult job and it's not about to get any easier.... [She described some of the crazy things going on at her school.] Right now, all I have is poetry, and this fiercely negative poem powerfully touches exactly where I am right now.

Desert Places, by Robert Frost

Snow falling and night falling fast, oh, fast
In a field I looked into going past,
And the ground almost covered smooth in snow,
But a few weeds and stubble showing last.

The woods around it have it - it is theirs.
All animals are smothered in their lairs.
I am too absent-spirited to count;
The loneliness includes me unawares.

And lonely as it is, that loneliness
Will be more lonely ere it will be less -
A blanker whiteness of benighted snow
WIth no expression, nothing to express.

They cannot scare me with their empty spaces
Between stars - on stars where no human race is.
I have it in me so much nearer home
To scare myself with my own desert places

I had never heard the poem before, although it's very compelling. But what to say in return? I thought about this in the airport and on the plane; and when I finally got home I wrote her back as follows:

The Robert Frost poem -- I had never seen it before, but I love it. You are right: it is "fiercely negative" and very powerful. Reading it, I just want to take you in my arms and hold you for a while. And yet, I couldn't help thinking, as I pondered it, that I often have a very different take on solitude. No surprise, because you are in such a bad place in so many ways besides the geographical. But I spent a little time the last couple of hours trying to figure out how to express this other view. I am embarrassed to put my words next to Robert Frost's, because the comparison does nothing except to highlight the yawning gap between true poetry and the cheap verse I crank out. Still, I wrote it for you to read, and not just for me to bury in oblivion, so here goes.

I start in exactly the same winter forest where Frost does ....

The field lies silent underneath the snow.
The empty forest round about it stands.
The woodland creatures sleep in holes below.
The solitude is fierce in desert lands.

The air is cold and still. No breath is heard,
But bleak and dead and lonely fades the day.
When, almost out of view, a little bird
Hops lightly on the snow and flies away.

So, long ago, in desert Palestine,
A bird flew down o'er River Jordan's flood,
To cry that in the desert waste the Vine
Of love still grew, and that this love is God.

In desert solitude our God is known.
Where there is love, we never are alone.

Fifteenth date

Gosh, have D and I had fifteen dates already? Sometimes I stop and realize that the number is getting kind of large; then next I wonder why I have made a point of writing about each one? I’m not sure of the answer, except that it forces me to slow down a little and pay attention. And it sets the event in my memory, in a way that probably wouldn’t happen otherwise. Maybe it’s not important to keep up. But paying attention is always good.

Our fifteenth date was actually a couple weeks ago, when I was at the office in Faraway City for one week and she was able to join me from Saturday afternoon through Monday evening. (And we have another date coming up in another two weeks. I think we are making up for that long dry spell from last September into January.)

We met at the airport, and right away the visit got off to a bumpy start – for a couple of reasons.

The first reason – I should mention that it took a while before D was prepared to explain either of these to me – was that I had dressed sloppily for the trip, and I hadn’t complimented her when I first saw her on how she looked. I mean, she looked nice, … but hell, she always looks nice. And even if she dressed like a slob (which I suspect would be constitutionally impossible for her), I’d still think she looked nice because I love her. But she reminded me how important looks are to her, and explained that she puts a lot of effort into dressing nicely for me. So she wants to be appreciated. The other side of the same token is that when I dress the way I usually do for travel – and if I am going to spend a lot of time in airports I dress for comfort and function, period – she thinks to herself, “He doesn’t even respect me enough to put a little effort into his clothes.” And of course that makes her sad. Ooops, that’s not what I meant, naturally. I agreed I’d dress better next time.

The second reason was a little stranger. When we met at the airport I tried to kiss her, but she only allowed a light little peck. I tried to hold her hand or touch her as we drove in to the hotel, but it was clear she didn’t feel comfortable. Once we checked into our room I tried to embrace her or at least hold her hand, and she flinched visibly away from me. What’s this? Are you angry with me?

D was a little shocked that I should think her angry with me, so I asked why she was unwilling to touch me. That’s what I would do if I were angry. And what she said was very odd.

D explained to me that she had become very confused about the strength of her own sexuality. After it took total control of her for two hours during the last evening of our fourteenth date, D said, she has been really spooked by her own sexual energy. She said she doesn’t understand it – not the power it (obviously) has over her, nor the power that it appears to have over others.

NOTE: This last remark needs a little explanation. D lives in a duplex; her neighbor in the other half is a divorced man in his eighties. D spends time visiting with him to be sociable, going to church with him on Sundays, and generally helping out because he is somewhat infirm. For his part, he has responded by asking her directly to fuck him, and by telling his children and other relatives that he plans to marry her once she is divorced from her husband. D was a little aghast at this: he is in his eighties, with partial paralysis in some parts of his body, … and he wants her in his bed? Well it’s no surprise to me that he should want her there, but I have to admit I find it a little odd that he could expect her to want him. More and more though, D tells me, he seems trapped in orbit around her, in a way she finds somewhat disturbing. Then recently her daughter persuaded her to join a “couch-surfing” network, maybe as a way to travel on the cheap. Recently she hosted her first guest, a middle-aged man coming through the area to visit family. They spent one evening talking over dinner, and he told D all about his two failed marriages. When he left she gave him a hug goodbye, … and he told her then that he had never felt in love with anybody, but he wished once in his life he could be hugged like that by somebody who loved him. It might make all the difference.

Anyway, over the past few weeks, between our previous date and this one, D had been feeling progressively more and more disturbed by the power of her own touch, of her own sexuality. What is more, she felt that she understood it less and less. She told me she had gotten to the point of feeling almost like the character Rogue, from the X-Men – someone who can’t even touch others without draining some essential power out of them.

It’s a remarkable story, and it is certainly consistent with her backing away when I wanted to touch her. But frankly I have a little trouble understanding how this story can be true. D isn’t some newly-pubescent girl who is still discovering that her body reacts in new and different ways. She’ll be 57 this year, for heaven’s sake, and she admits that her sex drive has been remarkably powerful her whole adulthood. How can it possibly be confusing her now? Shouldn’t she have it pretty much all figured out by this point?

I would think so, but she said that she understands sex a lot less now than she did (or thought she did) back when she was 20. Also, a lot of her earlier understanding was filtered through a lens of Christian theology, and now she’s not so sure that’s a very helpful way to approach sex. Anyway, the upshot is that she was skittish about touching me, so she said, for fear that her fundamental sexual nature might explode on her or something. (And of course in the end we did hold hands while talking in the hotel … and a little later we were tearing each other’s clothes off and fucking for dear life.)

We fucked a lot this visit. I am happy to report that I didn’t have the same erectile problems I had last time. (Maybe I was just out of practice?) Between sex and dinner (and more sex) we pretty much accounted for the evening and the morning. As we walked to a restaurant for breakfast, I spelled out for her my idea about the Shakespeare Festival.

Then D mentioned that she had told her sister about me. More precisely, her sister called while D was en route to the airport.

“What’s that noise in the background? Are you driving?”

"Yes.”

“Where are you going?”

“To Faraway City.”

“Why are you going there?”

Long pause. “To see the man I’m dating.”

D said that her sister was very positive and affirming – “I’m so proud of you!” – and that she wants to meet me. And indeed I have heard so much about her that I’d like to meet her too. (It’s these kinds of emotions that made me think up this idea about the Shakespeare Festival in the first place. But everyone whose opinion I have asked has told me it is a skull-crushingly stupid idea.)

Back to the hotel … more sex. Then we went out to a play in the afternoon, and afterwards to a wine bar where we had plenty of wine, and some elegant hors d’oeuvres, and talked.

D told me she thought I wasn’t being completely honest with myself about my own feelings. Huh? It turns out that she was talking about my argument linking sex with community and friendship (see for example my discussion here). But she wan’t thinking of the abstract argument so much as she was thinking of my suggestion (which I have tried to intimate only very gently) that it is hardly fair for her to be stuck so much of the time with no sexual companionship, and that physical fidelity is not necessary (or at any rate is not something I ask of her). She said that she thinks I have been so badly hurt by Wife over the years that I have really come to believe there is something about me that is simply not “good enough” – whatever that means. So to try to get me over that, she said that she thinks I need a lover to be absolutely faithful to me, so that I can come to understand that I really can be good enough to please her.

I told her that I’m not so sure I agree, and that I have in fact spent a lot of time thinking about questions of fidelity and infidelity.

“I’m not surprised that you have. Is this because of who I am?”

In retrospect I am not quite sure what she meant by that question. At the time I assumed she was referring to her abundant sexual energy, and that she was therefore hinting (as never before) at a level of experience inconsistent with strict monogamy. Later on I thought of a more mundane explanation: viz., that she is somebody else’s wife, so the only way for us to be together at all involves infidelity. I like the first explanation better.

I answered, “Not only that, but because of my own past with Wife.”

“Of course.”

So I summarized my essay that sex creates a couple where there wasn’t one before, and that “betrayal” means betrayal of that couple-dom, of the promise of mutual refuge that you make to each other. But I added therefore that what I would want to know (if she ever were to fuck somebody else) is “Where do I stand?” And if my own position were secure, then maybe it’s not betrayal …? I can’t remember everything we said – that’s one problem with discussing these things over little food and lots of wine. I don’t think we ever got far enough for me to say that it seems selfish of me to trap her sexuality all for myself, especially when we see each other so little; or that it is somehow a denial of a grand, divine gift because her sexuality is so exuberant. But I have said some of that before, I think.

One thing she said that made me feel better is that when she promises me she is only mine, she doesn’t necessarily mean forever. She means for now. She is not saying she’ll never, ever, ever take anybody else to her bed, but only that for now she won’t.

Anyway, after we polished off a half-carafe and a bottle, we left to come back to the hotel where we fucked some more – very intensely and passionately. She fell asleep, I got up to do a little work, and then lay down next to her and slept a good nine hours. There was a party in the hallway (some little kids’ hockey team and their parents) but we both slept through them. She also said that after the noise we (she) had made earlier in the evening, she would have felt awkward about asking them to be quieter. But no need.

The next morning we got up and ate; looked up some flights to plan for my next business trip; then I read to her while she ironed my shirts. Some time later the Consultant called. I had known he was going to be in town (albeit very briefly), and by the greatest coincidence he was going to be flying out the same time she was. So gosh, why don’t we meet at the airport for a bite or a glass of something? We made the arrangements as D finished my last shirt and threw her few things into her bag. Was it really time for her to leave? So soon? Sigh …. Well, maybe we had time for one more kiss. So we started kissing again … and then in a flurry threw our clothes off one last time. I never got hard this time at all; but D for her part moaned intensely enough that it turned into a scream before she covered her own mouth with a pillow. Ahhh, … much better. We dressed and drove to the airport, where we met up with the Consultant to share an hour of wine and talk. He left. She left. I waved at her softly, and then drove back to the hotel. And it was time to get to work ….

"Teacher, is there Extra Credit in this class?"

This afternoon I saw a news item that confirms for me the world is crazy ... as if there had been any significant doubt before. I hardly think I can improve on just posting the links ....

http://napervillesun.suntimes.com/news/4104019-418/nu-class-has-live-sex-demonstration.html
http://www.cnn.com/2011/US/03/03/illinois.sex.toy/
http://www.chicagotribune.com/news/local/ct-met-northwestern-sex-toy-demonstra20110303,0,6579025.story
http://www.chicagotribune.com/news/chi-0304-schmich-column-story,0,5562722.story
http://www.suntimes.com/4115230-417/live-sex-demonstration-troubles-disappoints-northwestern-president.html

Ancient history

I was looking through some old files this evening and found a piece of truly ancient history. This is a poem I wrote for Wife's Girlfriend 1, back when they were going together and I was desperately trying to ... ummm ... ingratiate myself into her bed. (I think I mentioned once that Girlfriend 1 was just amazingly hot, so it was a matter of considerable frustration for me that she had absolutely no interest in me. sigh. )

Anyway, I had almost forgotten that I tried my hand at a few poems around that time. This one was just about twenty years ago; and except for one more sonnet a couple years after that (about a job I had just quit ... you had to be there) I never wrote a line again until I started writing them for D. The only reason I am including it here at all is that I'm unlikely to find it again. But it's pretty bad -- and amazingly pretentious. I rest secure in the consolation that nobody will bother to read it, however ....


A girl of four or five laughs in your smile,
As with your toes you tease our puzzled pet.
Your gentle lisp betrays a childlike style
That makes the world a game with rules not set.

But underneath your tender breast there lies
A spirit steeled to stern adversity,
Who soars with Zeus's eagles through the skies
And with Ulysses sails the wine-dark sea.

So play and passion each have left a mark,
As to your lips you press your lady love.
Your child's soft heart is warmed by every spark
Of conflagrations mortals know not of.

Though not your lover, loving I admire
Your spark divine when fanned to such a fire.

(June 3, 1991)

Brave? Or just incredibly, head-bangingly stupid?

I have a question that I probably should be able to answer on my own, but nobody can judge his own cause fairly (or something like that).

Some background: The only friend D and I have in common is The Consultant, a guy I work with here and there something like four days out of the year. But years ago he had told me all about his loveless (first) marriage, about his plans for divorce, and about the delightful woman he had found instead, with whom he carried on an affair for a year or two until his divorce went through and he was free to marry her. So naturally when I met him on a business trip away from home, where D had joined me for a few days, I suggested we all have dinner together and he has been a common friend of our ever since.

But so far that is it. D has told a couple of her siblings and a couple of her friends about me, and she is forthright about mentioning me in conversation to others as her "best friend." But I have been a lot shyer about doing likewise. No special reason, except I just can't figure out how to get a conversation like that off the ground: "Boy, this is some weather we've been having lately ... and did I mention about this woman I've been dating whenever I leave town?" Somehow that doesn't sound quite right. Now, D has met my parents -- once -- and I kind of assumed afterwards that my father, who is chronically nosy about everybody's business, would ask questions. I was even counting on it, as a way to save me the trouble bringing the subject up. Why would I want to tell them? Well gosh, I figure that once Wife and I have divorced (I am still planning for this about two years from now), D will play a much more visible part in my life. Maybe it would be good if they knew something about her. (They certainly seemed to like her.) Maybe if it were possible to discuss her in some kind of normal way, the kids might get the idea that she's not a demon from Hell, regardless what Wife might say about her. I don't know, it just seemed like an idea that might hold some promise.

That's the background.

Also: every year in the summer, my parents travel to another state for a week-long Shakespeare Festival. This event always has other things happening in the same week -- modern plays to attend as well, but also classes of various kinds -- and for the last few years they have asked if either of the boys would like to attend a "Shakespeare for Kids" class that teaches concrete acting skills, and that drills those skills by rehearsing and performing scenes. Recently, Son 2 has found that he really loves acting in school plays; so this year he answered with an emphatic "YES!" Great ... my folks are going to make their own reservations, and they plan to sign him up for the week-long class and take him along. Then, almost as an afterthought, my father asked if the rest of us would like to come too, making a big summer event out of it for the whole family?

At first I was torn: I've been at large, week-long family events in the past that didn't work too well, and it's not like I'm looking forward to an exciting getaway with Wife. Nor am I quite clear whether we would be able to watch the output of the kids' classes. But Son 2's enthusiasm is palpable. And then I had what the Hayley Mills character (in one of her silly 1960's movies) called "the most scathingly brilliant idea" ....

This Shakespeare Festival is a big deal. People come from all over to attend it. It's a public event, so you can't assume that the attendance of this or that person is automatically ruled out. So, ... what if D attended as well? What if I took this as a chance to reintroduce her to the family?

I immediately started hedging this about in my mind with ground rules. In the first place, we couldn't spend the nights together: not in that setting, not with everybody there. That would be going too far. In the second place, nobody would guess for a minute that our meeting there was an accident. So I had in mind asking Wife up front, "How would you feel if the thousands of other visitors also included D? It would be far away from our home. She couldn't clean up our house or throw away any more of your stuff. It would be a completely public venue. But you know that she and I still write each other and talk ... only it's been a long time since we had a chance to see each other [small lie there] and that might be kind of pleasant. Maybe she could invite her daughter to come along, and maybe the two families could have dinner together a couple of times. How would you feel about that?"

Then if she threw a fit or laid down an ultimatum -- something like "If That Woman shows up then I'm not going!" -- I'd drop the idea. It was proposed as a family event, so I wouldn't do anything to interfere with that part of it. But if she were to grudgingly accept it -- maybe on the grounds that after all it is a free country and she couldn't stop her anyway, grumble grumble -- then it could be pretty cool. D and I would have another chance to see each other (though admittedly without the fucking); she could re-meet my family in what I hope could be a pleasant and congenial context; the fact that I brought her back after that first visit two years ago should be all they needed to see in order to guess that she might be a long-term figure in my life ... there are some upside possibilities.

Of course there are also downside possibilities -- screaming tantrums by Wife come to mind, just for one -- but I prefer not to dwell on them.

I mentioned this idea to D on our most recent date (no, I haven't written about it yet, but soon) and she called it "Very brave." I'm asking you, however, if it maybe verges instead on the suicidally reckless or the manically destructive. Seriously, I probably can't judge the idea fairly on my own. What do you think?