A Comfort Woman

I got a different kind of release when Jason sought me out, I guess to apologize. He was waiting for me as I came out from work, late again, so there wasn't anyone around.

"Hey, bud. I want to clear the air--"

That was all he got out before my fist met his ear. We're about the same size, and neither of us had much experience with fighting, but I had fury on my side. I mopped the sidewalk with him. He left town with two black eyes, a broken nose, and a swollen jaw along with some bruises up and down his torso. I may have got him in the balls with my knee too, but it wasn't a clean shot.

After that I made a couple of quiet trips to St. Louis. Jason had always been a car guy. It was his bad luck that his M3 got completely trashed while he was in a bar watching Monday Night Football. Every window and mirror was smashed, the paint deeply gouged from stem to stern, the body heavily dented, the tires slashed, and the interior spray-painted bright red. His insurance covered a lot of the damage, and he used the payout to buy a used Porsche Cayman. Sadly for him, about four months later someone smashed his driver-side window and threw in a Molotov cocktail while the car alarm blared. It was going to be very expensive for him to be insured again.

No one came looking for me, but even if they had there were receipts on my credit cards that put me in bars near my apartment on those nights. As revenge goes, it was modestly satisfying, but it would have to do. Jail really didn't appeal. In the end Jason had to live being the asshole he was.

I didn't see Marlene after the divorce, and I wouldn't let anyone tell me about her either. She had wounded me deeply. Even so, I hoped that she found someone to share her life. We had a lot going for us, but it turned out there was one massive chasm in how we thought about marriage.

When I started dating again, I expected to be let down, so I didn't risk my heart at all. I frustrated more than one woman. I finally realized that I was destined to be alone unless I screwed up the courage to trust someone again. So I resolved to assume good intentions and to communicate about my experience with Marlene and my expectations for any relationship.

I also needed to get back into shape, so I joined a mountain biking club that hit the trails on the weekend. My first day with them turned out to be the first day for Prisha too. She was tall and lean, with black hair long and thick. We lagged the others pretty badly, so we spent much of the ride together, talking when we had our breath. She was lively and quick-witted, and I laughed a lot. As we loaded up our bikes at the end of the ride I wasn't moving very quickly, and she seemed to be dawdling as well.

"I know this is last-minute," I said, my heart beating way too fast, "but if you're free tonight would you like to go to dinner?"

Her smile was dazzling. "I'd like that. What did you have in mind?"

"Something casual. What's your favorite food?"

"Italian. Isn't it everyone's favorite?"

"Everyone who matters. It's mine too."

We did the contact-info exchange thing with our phones and went home to clean up. I picked her up at six and we had a very pleasant, low-key evening. I got a nice hug and a quick kiss, but it was more than I expected, so I floated home a happy man.

We dated regularly after that.

I was candid about Marlene and me, and I learned that she had two relationships that went bad because of cheating, so we were both a bit reticent. We didn't become physically intimate for four months. We were laying entwined in her bed, her firm breasts pressed into my chest. We were naked and partially sated from oral orgasms when she pulled my revitalized cock to her. I held my hips back and kissed her, then looked into her luminous dark eyes.

"I don't do this casually. If we're going to take this step, I need to be the only one for you. And you'll be the only one for me."

Prisha smiled and kissed me back. "Exclusive. I like the sound of that."

She was an active lover. Vocal too.

We moved in together after four more months of dating. Prisha was warm and generous and grounded. I was direct and honest. She was organized but not inflexible, and I took direction well. We were very compatible, but with enough differences to keep things interesting. In addition to cycling and Italian food, we both loved action movies. I didn't understand her affinity for quilting though, and my fascination with curling befuddled her too. We both watched "Dancing With the Stars," but I pulled for the athletes and she liked the actresses.

I worked diligently to be clear about what I was thinking at every turn. Prisha reciprocated. We never had any blow-ups. Disagreements were handled long before they became a problem. We grew so close because we could trust each other one-hundred percent -- no secrets meant no barriers, and trust flourished.

Sometimes I found myself wishing that I'd communicated better when I was married to Marlene -- one of my distant regrets. Mars may have doomed us, but I wasn't without fault. I just assumed we shared the same expectations about monogamy. She did too. We blindsided each other, and I wonder if we could have avoided the whole nasty business if we talked more ahead of it. But we didn't, so we hurt each other, and we both have to live with that going forward.

The experience made me a much better partner for Prisha. And that eventually led us down the aisle and into a wholly-satisfying marriage. Our son Siddharth (we call him Sid) was born three years after we wed, and he was followed almost two years later by daughter Fiadh (Fee to us). The Indian-Irish mash-up isn't a common one, so we pretty much make the rules. And rule number one is that nothing trumps fidelity!

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