Three's Company

Or is it Three's a Crowd?

So last night, in a burst of spontaneity brought on by the joint intoxication of one night without children, two shots, and four beers, Husband and I did something that we never do.

We did IT.

Yes, we Fornicated Under Consent of the King. In a friend's bed, no less, because he lived across the street from the bar and we couldn't drive home. See what wanton hedonists we become when Grandma has the babies for the night? Like damn teenagers, I tell you.

Now, I don't normally talk about my sex life in public, and I don't think I've ever talked about it here, but this was a momentous occasion, and so I feel that it warrants recognition. It was the first time that we had sex since he admitted his affair.

We've been avoiding it since then, for complicated reasons that haven't been clearly defined. Partly because we're working to start our relationship over at the beginning, learning again who the other is, how to love and trust each other again, etc. and sex just complicates that process. Partly because you never know what kinds of cooties he could have picked up from his whore*. Partly because sex involves a level of trust and intimacy that we don't have back yet. Partly because we're sharing a guest bed in a room with the baby in a house that's so not soundproof. Whatever. We haven't been doing it. And that's just fine for now.

However.

Sometimes you just want to do it. You know?

So, in my whole alcohol-induced, inhibition-reduced state, I was all sure! let's do it! really! no, seriously, take your pants off! And it was enjoyable, in both the usual sense (duh) and in the sense that hey, we don't have to worry about waking the baby or whether his sister is eavesdropping on the other side of the wall. And, in typical drunk-girl fashion, I was lost in the moment and not thinking about any of the other... *aspects* of the situation.

Until. Suddenly, mid-coit, I had a vision. Of him. And her. Doing what we were doing. And suddenly, I was consumed. *How* did they do it? Was it good? Was she better than me? Was he thinking of her, right now?

I almost blurted out the question right there, but through the haze I realized that it was neither the time nor the place for that conversation. And maybe I don't want to keep talking about it. I have a pretty good grasp of the logistics of the situation, thanks to my morbid curiosity about it. I keep asking the nosiest questions, which is awkward at times, but I feel like I'm entitled to know. So I ask. It's usually not as bad as what I'm picturing in my head, which is comforting in a very strange sense.

I pushed it out of my mind, and went back to enjoying myself on a more elemental level. I never did ask, and I probably won't. I'll always wonder, but I don't know if it would help anything to keep asking about the details. We're really working hard at communicating, being open and honest, and building our relationship up again from the ground up. Would asking questions about the sex act itself help move us forward? Probably not. I think I just wanted reassurance that he *wasn't* thinking of her, that it *wasn't* any good, that she *wasn't* better than me. I feel pretty damn inadequate right now, as you might suspect, and I feel like I need a constant pep talk - I'm good enough, I'm smart enough, and doggone it, people like me. Otherwise, I've got a massive inferiority complex going on, and I constantly keep trying to build my confidence back up.

I want my self back, and I think I'm doing really great in that realm. I'm very happy with my job. I'm glad to get up in the morning and tackle another day. I'm working to strengthen my bond with the girls, and we're all getting very close, which I hope stays the case for the rest of our lives. I'm being totally open and honest with Husband, even in cases where I usually would have taken the path of least resistance, compromised to make peace, kept silent for the sake of preserving the status quo. I'm not angry nearly as much as before, and my depression seems like a bad dream. I'm really working hard at the *me* part of this equation.

But I want my husband back, too. I want our relationship back. I want our life back. And we're working on that, too, although it takes a little longer because two people are working, not just one. I have faith, though. It will come. All in the fulness of time.

But most of all, I want her ghost out of my bed.


*I'm not sure what the PC term is for the person that someone cheats with. Co-conspirator? Partner in crime? Homewrecker? Those all sound weird to me. I like my word better.