The Other Woman

In all honesty, one of the scariest parts of being with someone forever is the thought of having sex with that person, and only them, for the rest of my life. But what if you didn’t have to? What if you and your partner agreed to sleep with other people, as long as you came home to them? Is this too good to be true? Or the perfect setup?

I matched with Andy for the second time. We’ve done this rodeo once before about six months ago (but I unmatched after conversation went dead after two weeks) and I remember talking quite a bit. Usual conversations between tattoos, beer and soccer teams: all the lame things I can go on forever about. I remember specifically that he was forward in his advancements, but it wasn’t weird or creepy. In telling him this, “If you’re creepy about sex, it’s probably because you’re bad at it.” I would wear a sign that said that if I could. We joked around getting drinks after an hour of constant back and forth. “My girlfriend probably wouldn’t like that too much haha”. Pardon…? I really hoped he was kidding. I asked him; nope, very real girlfriend. He and homegirl have been dating for over five years.

I took a step back. I was on the brink of going out with a guy who was in a long term relationship with someone. It made my skin crawl.

I, for one, wouldn’t even be in an open relationship, even if it included Rachel McAdams and James McAvoy. (But like, if I ever did, I’d adapt a Mc last name to blend in. Not that I’ve thought about it at all.) Naturally, I didn’t want to be rude and just stop talking to him, so I began what became an inquisition for over an hour. He openly explained every question I had. The beginning of their relationship was very strong, accompanied with amazing sex. As time went on and many aspects of their relationship started to fail, she cheated on him. Numerous times. He was devastated. They stayed together though. Sometime later, he brought up the idea that she should see guys on the side, which they agreed to. No repeat customers, they know the full story before agreeing to all terms, minimal talking beforehand. They found their middle ground and both parties seemed happy by this agreement. I was too intrigued to let this go.

We agreed to hang out the following morning. I more so wanted to pick his brain; he wanted to even the score with his girlfriend. Happy to say I won during that competition. With two beers before noon under my belt, I wanted to know the real reason behind this type of household, or as I saw it, absolute madness.  I had so many various theories racking my brain: was she just so out of his league that he would do anything to stay with her? Did she even have sex with him still? Was he really “totally cool” with someone plowing into his future wife in their bed while he was seeing a movie by himself?

Not only was it this lifestyle I knew nothing about, I was getting a front row seat on how this came to be. A dear friend once said to me, “I’m not a homewrecker, but I’ll fuck up some furniture.” I just had to remember that no matter what happens, this isn’t my house. No matter if I move the furniture a bit, it’s going to go right back where it belongs. I am a guest and should act like one.

I was floored. No one has ever put it to me like that.

“At the fear of sounding cliché, she’s my best friend and I love every ounce of her. I literally could not think of a day without her in it.” Through his stories between the two of them, they both royally fucked up in the past. He was shitty to her, she sought solace in other men.  He admitted that they were awful for each other when they were younger, “but now, I couldn’t think of a more ideal situation.” He put it  in better perspective more than I ever could. “Think about it. You find the love of your life. They are perfect in every aspect of life: home, family, job, financially. Perfect. But they aren’t willing to give in to your little kink, whatever it may be. We all have one; one little kink that really gets us going. Now, how much pressure is it for them to live up to the standard of everyday relationship hardships, but also sexually fulfill every fantasy of yours too? No way. That’s too much pressure. So what do you do? Do you give that sexual part of you up, what really gets you going, and have sex that you’ll be bored with within two years? OR they let you satisfy that small part of your fantasy elsewhere, but still experiencing the other 90% with your partner? The person you love? That’s what we’re doing.” I was floored. No one had ever put it to me like that. I am much too selfish (and jealous) to agree to such terms, but others thrive off of it.

While I understood that we were talking, and lying naked, in their bed, I wanted to see if the score was even. “No, I’ve never done this before. She’s the one who seeks out guys on Tinder, sends the sexy Snaps of herself and then it’s a ‘hit it and quit it’ deal.” “And you’re just okay with nothing happening on your end?” I was still not grasping this concept for myself. “She’s gorgeous. She can get a guy anywhere, anytime. I’m a nerdy looking dude. It’s not as easy for me. But that doesn’t even matter. She likes feeling wanted. It makes her feel sexy that guys want her so bad. In turn, that turns me on. Like the thought of her needing a certain guy so bad, she goes out of her way to sleep with him. That turns me on. Said dude leaves, I come home and we have amazing sex. Really, we’re both winning here.” This logic made every amount of sense to him. Mind blown. AGAIN. I felt like a crazy person. Something I was so soulfully disgusted by, now I’m completely understanding of it. Is this growing up? Even I understood, someone who would laugh hysterically while swiping left when seeing a couple on Tinder, advertising their open relationship.

She called on her way home to make sure the coast was clear to come back; my last anxiety was wondering if she actually knew about it, which was obvious now. He walked me out of his building as if we just discussed refinancing his loans. Too casual. I never heard from him again.

Sexuality is weird. Love is even weirder. There’s no set formula for who or how we love, or show our love.  Sometimes it’s a new BMW, sometimes it’s a rimjob, sometimes it’s allowing your woman to get rammed by a dude she’ll never see again. Do what works for you, what makes you both happy. Do you, boos.

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