You sick little fucks. You still want to know what I've been up too, two years since my last post.
"Lindsay," you say, "I miss your blog!"
"When will you do a new blog?"
"Why haven't you written in so long?"
Well, for one, I don't want my writing to get me fired. And for two, life has gotten pretty deep and fucked up in the past two years. It's been confusing and fun and scary and nice all at once.
I guess we could start with the night I told Jeff that I wanted to fuck someone else.
We were sitting down on the couch drinking our tea together like a pair of old British piss pots and I had had enough. I was not getting enough dick. I wanted the penis everywhere. Like a manic bi-polar in a shoe store, I wanted them all and all the time. A new one for every outfit. Every holiday. Every mood. Pile the dicks on me. Let me roll in all the cocks. Now. Now. Now.
I wanted it in the morning. At night. In the afternoon. All times. And all holes seemed fine too. I think it might be the first time I started daydreaming about doing multiple men at once. No problem. I could handle it. At 36, I wasn't scared. Bring it on.
At first I thought Jeff was going to choke on his chamomile tea. But he just swallowed, slowly.
"I need to get fucked," I continued, trying to keep the shake out of my voice. "I want to fuck more and I am done having kids." He listened, not daring to breathe. "If you don't get a vasectomy I am going to have sex with someone else. I don't want a divorce, I just want to bang."
There is no rule book for telling your husband you want more cock. I don't quite remember my parents doing it and I for sure don't remember anyone telling me I would get to this phase of life. I probably wouldn't have believed it even if someone HAD told me.
I had gone over a hundred different ways to go about having an affair and had even made a fake e-mail in which I planned to contact men on craigslist with. Red flag, right? I looked up stuff on youtube like "How to Have an Affair." It was during one of these searches that a TED TALK featuring the world renowned therapist Esther Perel popped up. I watched it and then I made Jeff watch it. She was amazing. She was just so cool in that European way. Her French accent made it almost erotic. She made the crowd nervous. She made them relieved. She made them laugh about it.
Because in reality, an act which hurts another person isn't enjoyable. And I didn't want to hurt anyone. My desire for more sex didn't stem from anything angry or vindictive. It stemmed from a desire to be my own person. Alone. Freedom. Fun. Three things as a working mother and wife I don't get very often. Marriage can be the ultimate killer of autonomy for a woman. It took years for me to feel the robbery-of-self that marriage can be at times.
On my grave stone it's going to say, "If this here dead woman did anything right, she chose excellent men to surround herself with."
The best men in my life don't try to fence me in. They embrace my whole person. They never try to put this wild horse in the barn. There is something absolutely amazing about that.
Jeff never made me feel bad about wanting to have more sex. In fact, the next day he scheduled his vasectomy. He started drinking pomegrante juice to try and naturally enhance his libido to match mine. He kisses me goodbye every morning and with a pat on the bum he tells me, "good luck, baby. Get those boys to kiss you."
In her book, Esther Perel explains the push and pull of desire and how it fluctuates over time and role changes. She explains often after major life events like a health scare, a death in the family, or any significant event for one or both partners, affairs happen. As uncomfortable as it is to think about them they are a part of life. I felt like the more I tried to convince myself how terrible an affair would be, or what kind of monster mother would do that to her children, or how I was not that type of person, the closer it seemed to get. Finally, I threw up my hands and was like, "for fuck sake am I such a bad woman for wanting these things? Fuck it. I'm just going to see what Jeff thinks about it and go from there."
Ever since that conversation, sex has picked up. Considerably. Perel explains that marriages all need a third partner and that sometimes just the threat of this real or imagined third partner can be enough to re-flame the desire in a long term relationship. Secrets can be sexy. Feeling like you might not know everything about your partner is what makes them mysterious and strange and something you want to discover. She also explains how ridiculous it is to think that one person can be your everything. And how selfish it is to expect the unrealistic ability of your one partner to fulfill all of your needs and all of your happiness. Lady knows her shit.
I realize ending the blog here leaves you wondering, "so, is she having an affair?" and honestly, yeah, kind of. Maybe not in the traditional thought of it, but I do have physical and emotional attachments outside of the marriage. I'm having more fun. And Jeff and I have never tried so hard. The weird part is, as soon as Jeff and I had our conversation, I started feeling better about everything. And people have noticed. Our aunt exclaims over how beautiful I look and in the same breath, she eyes me carefully like a shark to a ham and whispers, "Are you having an affair??!"
Because a married woman only looks that good when she is doing something bad. No mother looks like that unless her fun factory is getting used good and hard.