A short time after I turned 40 I was at a strip club in Texas when one of the most beautiful women I have ever seen comes up, sits down on my lap, and starts talking. Everyone else in the room is locked out, and a few minutes later my buddies are tugging at my coat. “We have to go, we have to work tomorrow”.
“We just got here,” I responded.
“Look at your watch,” one said. I did. We had been there six hours. I went typically middle-age crazy. After all these repressive years I had beautiful women who would carry on a decent conversation around me, who would flirt, and make me feel attractive (and young). It just took money. No, I didn’t fuck her. But it was not because I didn’t want or would not have given the opportunity. I responded by losing weight, changing the way I dressed, listening to different music, putting a private line into my office.
Our psychologist later said that even in the midst of this mental infatuation that I had taken a rather safe approach by becoming obsessed with a stripper rather than another woman that had a possibility of forming a real relationship.
My wife saw my change for what it was. “I know what you’re thinking and I know, it’s not worth it.” She didn’t elaborate then, but later, when she was drunk, I brought it up again and she confessed of her affair a few years earlier. In my mind I had suspected she had fucked him, but in my naiveté I thought she had fucked him once to see what it was like, to get it out of her system to see what it would be like with someone else. But when I found out it went on for a couple of years off and on and that she thought she loved him—well it jerked me out of my mid-life crisis and I had other things to deal with emotionally.
The funny thing was if she has asked at the time I was probably at the point in my mind that I wouldn’t have minded if I could have been there. The idea had crossed my mind from the pornos and stories I would try to get her to watch and read.
I felt sucker punched because of the dishonesty and lies of her affair. With the help of a good therapist we survived it (I did it for the kids at the time at the time, but a part of it too was I couldn’t envision life without her—even though a part of me wanted to leave), but as a part of the recovery I had to know all the details. And as she went over it with me, after the pain had subsided the idea of her with someone else started becoming more and more erotic. And a lot of my concern that someone would take her away from me went away. I was no longer jealous. I wanted to show her off. I wanted her to dress sexy all the time. Which in her best passive-aggressive role she consented only on occassion. I was still on my quest to unlock what I now call the slut side of her. Her affair only confirmed that my suspicions of that side of her existing were correct.
To stay with her I reasoned that her being with another man was not a big thing—our marriage had to be built on other things. Because if it was a big thing we should have divorced over her affair. All this blunt honesty with each other resulted in what I can only call sexual growth. I learned she really would like to try two men at once “if the right opportunity arose”, and that she had a once had a crush on a black guy in high school and had always wanted to try that. She opened up sexually, little by little
Of course the question at this point is anyone reading this? If so leave a comment so I'll know you're out there.