I want to be perfectly clear: I love my wife.
We’ve been married for more than ten years and have a beautiful child. We have many common interests, and she’s my best friend — but our love life isn’t what it used to be because she’s lost interest in sex. She tearfully told me one night that she’d understand if I needed to divorce her, but I wanted no such thing.
Then a few days later, she told me that she had been thinking and said if I wanted to have affairs it was okay with her — with one exception. “Please don’t go to prostitutes,” she begged me.
She had gotten the idea from talking to her friends, who had told her that they’d had fantasies about having no-strings-attached sex with married men, and that a guy with my looks and personality should have no problem finding other women. I was a bit taken aback that she was discussing this stuff with her girlfriends, but I was also intrigued. Still, I told her I couldn’t cheat on her.
“It’s okay. You’re not cheating. You have my permission,” she assured me. “Just don’t bring the women into our lives.”
I was convinced I would never act on her largesse, but one day I was riding the train when a beautiful woman caught my eye. It was a packed car, and I was standing, clutching the railing. The train lurched a bit, and I bumped into her. We made eye contact for a second as I apologized. “No worries,” she said. I was instantly in lust. She was almost as tall as I was, with the long blonde hair out of a shampoo commercial. It was a hot day, and she was wearing a cute sundress, with a pair of sandals that showed off her beautiful feet.
She went back to reading her book, which was a biography of Mick Jagger. I realized if I didn’t say something soon, she would be gone for the rest of my life. So I asked her, “What’s your favorite Rolling Stone song?”
The woman regarded me again. I could see the emotions flashing across her face; she was making a snap judgment as to whether or not I was a creep. I guessed I passed the test because she smiled and said, “‘Moonlight Mile.’”
“Ah, from Sticky Fingers,” I said with a nod of my head. “You don’t hear that one much on the radio.”
“No, you don’t,” she said, now actively amused. “What’s yours?”
I thought for a second. “I guess it would be ‘Emotional Rescue,’” I answered.