Portrait Of An Open Marriage

And slowly I began to figure it out. For my husband, sex with me was about loving me. And loving me was about caring for and respecting me. Although there are people who can manage that duality (or plurality), my husband simply couldn’t. And I wasn't sure he should have to. But I also wasn't sure that I should have to go without.

One day, on a whim, really, I asked my husband about a longtime friend of mine. She had once been a grad student at the university where I taught. I had helped her get through research papers, exams, and first-time teaching assignments. She spent a lot of long nights and weekend afternoons at our house during those two years, and we became close friends. Even after finishing her degree, she still spent a lot of time at the house.

"Have you ever thought about sleeping with her?" I asked him.

"No," he said. My husband has no poker face. "OK, yes, but ..."

"But what?" I asked.

"Well, first of all, she'd never want to sleep with me. She’s 10 years younger than I am. And second, I don’t want to be with anyone else."

"Really?" I asked.

"Well," he said, "I mean, I don't need to."

"But do you want to?" I didn’t need him to answer me. It was clear that, in his head, he was already there.

"She's hot," he said.

"I know," I laughed. "So ... ?"

"So, of course I’d like to sleep with her. But what about you?"

"Of course," I replied. "I'd like to sleep with her too, silly."

"That's not what I meant," he said.

"I know. I know. So ... ?"

"So, bring it on," he teased.

"She's dying to sleep with you, you know."