I threaded my way through the crowd, looking for my friend. I wanted to leave but then I heard the drums, rhythmic and insistent. The beat escalated and people began to move and I was riveted. College-aged kids sporting dreads and card-carrying AARP veterans danced together with abandon, lost in unselfconscious erotic energy. Women flicked their hair, licked their lips and closed their eyes. Men gyrated and salivated. It was exhilarating and I let it was off the funk of judgment. We whirled and stomped. We flew and crouched with arms up and pelvises thrusting. It was everybody's own sexual exploration, chaste and turned on.
Two sweaty hours later I headed home to the only man I'd ever slept with and he was up waiting. The minute I walked in, Gavin folded me in his arms. "Did you have a good time?"
There was no hint of disapproval or worry. Just love. If there was the wispiest doubt that he and I were still in it for the long haul, it vanished in that moment. We had successfully navigated the roiling waters of sexuality and desire that drowns so many other couples. Why tank a wonderful marriage for that. There's always a choice—leave or transform within the relationship. We chose transformation. Tarot guy hit the nail on the head. My husband is unusual.