It has been months since I’d slept with him. Hell, we haven’t even talked in weeks. It’s true that no matter who you marry, they inevitably become a gaping wound that disgusts you.
I went to the grocery store on my way home and picked up some wine to share with him. I guess you could say I am trying to make something happen. I want to get drunk with my husband and get to know the man I use to love. We are strangers. I used to enjoy sleeping with strangers, so maybe this can work. Maybe we can fall in love with each other again. Maybe I am fooling myself.
I skipped my workout class so I could buy some lingerie for him. I miss being touched. When we first met there wasn’t anywhere we wouldn’t fuck. I want to get back to that.
We don’t have children. I guess the idea of combining our genes became hideous to the both of us and instead, we focused on our careers.
I met him at a bar in east Austin 10 years ago. While I was getting a beer at the bar I noticed him staring at me with an attractive woman at his side. She didn’t seem to notice his wandering eyes as she affectionately rubbed his back. He immediately broke eye contact to her touch and focused his attention back to her. I was appalled. When she left for the restroom he approached me.
“I want to take you out sometime. I saw you walk in and I couldn’t help myself, you are stunning. I could smell you as you walked past and I couldn’t help myself. I’m sorry.”
“You smelled me? I don’t think your girlfriend would appreciate you saying all this.”
At that moment, she walked in between us and put her arm around his waste.
“Who’s your friend honey?” She looked me up and down.
Quickly, I replied, “Oh, we are not friends. Actually, I don’t even know him.”
“Well, you two seem to have something going on with how close you were speaking to one another.”
He interjected, “Sevi, it’s okay. Nothing is going on here. I was just asking her for matches.”
She waited for my reply impatiently.
“Matches, yea? Okay, yea he was asking me for some matches…Wait, you know what? Fuck this, he was asking me out actually. I think it is important for you to know what a tool your boyfriend is. You can’t even take a piss without him trying to fuck another woman. Have a good night!”
She grabbed my arm, “Boyfriend? He’s my brother. Sorry, I just wanted to fuck with you.”
They both laughed and my sassy stance turned sheepish until I eventually started laughing as well.
“Now I really have to take you out.” His eyes fixated on me as if he wanted to swallow me whole. I spent the evening with his family, who were incredible, and we’ve been together ever since.
Now, 10 years later here we are, cringing at having to share space with one another. How did it get to this? How have we allowed ourselves to become these people?
Today is the day that I am going to break this unbearable silence. After all, it isn’t others that I want, just him. The him that used to awe over me cooking a fucking egg. I want to show him her. Me. The her that felt like a lifetime wasn’t enough with him.
So here I am sweating uncontrollably on my way home to re introduce myself to my own husband. I listen to Conan Mockasin for ten minutes in the drive way and pull the tags off all my lingerie. The armor in my battle to save our marriage.
I walk into the living room and find my husband burying his face in the tits of my best friend. I quietly slipped back out the door and into my car. They didn’t notice.
I guess sometimes it’s bad timing for everyone. And I also guess that’s my last attempt to save my marriage.