Of dating married women
Could I consider someone else’s feelings without immediately making them about me? A few weeks later, I went back to Sam and told him I was willing to give it a go—with one condition: “I want your wife’s permission and I want to hear it from her,” I said. We sat and talked about politics for a while, but when she and I were alone together, I had to ask her, “How are you OK with this?
” “Honey,” she answered, smiling and taking another sip of wine, “when you’ve been married for 30 years, you’ll understand.” For her, commitment from Sam wasn’t about not sleeping with other people—not anymore.
One night, Sam came over late and started complaining about what a nag his wife was and what a relief it was to see me. “I am not the person you go to to complain about your wife,” I said.
“I’m not interested in having you compare me to her.
Still, we lived close to one another, so we began meeting up on park benches and having long conversations about the complexity of love and marriage.
As my interest in him grew, so did my intrigue in the arrangement he had proposed.
Finding one in which they called another woman “gorgeous” made my heart sink into my stomach, and watching them flirt with someone better-looking than me made me feel like an old sack of potatoes.
It was never enough for me to be beautiful and loved.
Sam and I have been seeing each other for a few months now and, so far, it’s the healthiest relationship I’ve ever been in.
It was about him being a good father to their children, coming home when he said he would, and not forgetting to pick up milk on the way—all of which he was apparently very good at.
When I got up to leave, Sam told her he was going to walk me home.
I found myself fascinated with the idea that non-monogamy could be liberating rather than soul-destroying.
When I considered how I felt whenever I got jealous, I realized that a lot of it stemmed from insecurity rather than love.