In Defense Of Ex Sex


Ex Sex
Having sex with your ex-husband: good idea? One woman tells her ex sex story.

We started corresponding again. Slowly at first, just emailing funny things we'd read or heard, but soon we were Gchatting and texting four or five times a week, and sometimes talking on the phone late into the night. I didn't tell anyone about this. I already knew how my friends would react—sternly remind me how much he'd hurt me, how hard it had been to get over my emotional dependence on him—and I was afraid that they were right. Even though I enjoyed my long conversations with him, I didn't trust them, and I couldn't shake the guilty feeling that I was cheating on my new self with my old one.

Ten months after our breakup, I was back in town and called to see if he wanted to get a beer. I used the pretext that I needed some stuff from our old house, but really I just wanted to see him, find out where things stood between us. I took certain preventative measures: I asked him to meet me in the early evening at a bright, family-friendly brewpub and picked clothes and makeup that made me look good, but not like I was trying. In case I tried to do something regrettable, I took out an insurance policy by arranging to meet my most judgmental friends at a nearby bar two hours after I was set to meet him. Keep that door shut, girlfriend. Nerve: The Virtual Pet That Embodied My Breakup

He was (characteristically) late. As I waited in a black vinyl booth, I tried to divine the source of my sudden nervousness. We knew each other better than anyone, but I didn't know how I would feel when I saw him, and it scared me. I needn't have worried. He was just the same, or nearly so—his thick Greek hair was slicked back into a bun. Gross, I thought, and relaxed. This person sliding into the booth across from me was no threat to my equilibrium.