I Couldn't Share Her

After catching Sally, my wife, who is twenty years younger than me, in bed with a younger man, I packed my bags and stormed out the house with her pulling on my clothes and begging me to stop. She was crying and spouting the usual bullshit about still loving me and wanting to spend the rest of her life with me. I told her I needed time to think and would see her in a couple weeks. We could decide where to go from there.

Three weeks later, except for a couple calls to assure her I was still among the living, and a little snooping to see if she spent her nights alone, we'd had no contact.

Tonight that was ending, and I still didn't know what to do. Pride pulled me in one direction; my heart the other. Upon arrival, she tried to kiss me and looked hurt when I pushed her away. After dinner we settled down to talk.

"Why?" was my first question. "What did I do to make you stop loving me?"

"I still love you. That hasn't changed." She moved over to sit beside me, then grasped both my hands in hers. Damn I hate to admit it but it felt good. "Maybe I better just tell you the whole story."

"Okay, but please give it to me straight. No more lies or half-truths."

"Do you remember about two years ago?" she began. "Back when you started having troubles with erections? Remember how we tried all the pills and how they reacted on you and then we were pretty much limited to oral sex?"

"Yeah, and I thought it was satisfying you—at least you claimed it did."

"I know—and it did make me feel really good, but tell me this—when I suck you off, does it feel as good as the real thing?"

"Good, but not like sinking it in your pussy." I was beginning to see the light.

"For me neither. It isn't your fault, but I became more and more dis-satisfied. Then Jerry started working with us. He's one of the nicest guys you'll ever meet and he'd just lost his wife to cancer. We got to talking, first on the job, then we'd lunch together, just talking—nothing more.

"Finally you had to take that two weeks trip to Maine and we—well we just..." She couldn't seem to say the word.

"So you two fucked?"

"No, not fucked—it was more like making love. We got together several times while you were gone, and...and..." Tears started draining down her cheeks. Finally she continued, "I know this sounds crazy, but I found myself falling in love with him."

"And falling out of love with me..."

"No!" She interrupted. "Not falling out of love with you—realizing I loved two men—and I couldn't choose between the two of you. You were both dear to me; I couldn't give either of you up.

"That's when I decided I'd just be a good wife to both of you. You have priority, but Jerry gets the part of me you can't handle.

"Did you really think that shit would work?"

"It has for almost two years. Until the other week, can you truthfully say I was anything but a good wife to you? Did I once deny you sex—at least all the sex you could possibly handle? Was I ever not available?"

I hated to admit she was right; I couldn't. Thinking back, the last couple years had been really good; I thought it was due to the kids growing up, but maybe not. "You might have a point, but just how would it work?"

"You, Jerry, and I would have to negotiate the details for a long term agreement, but it would work."

"Suppose I refuse; do you leave me or give up Jerry?"

"If you force me, I will give up Jerry, but I hope you don't."

"I can't share you," I said walking out.

Two weeks later a neighbor called worrying about Sally. They hadn't seen her for over a week. I assured her I'd check things out. Arriving at the house I found her in bed, dressed in her prettiest nightgown, holding a letter addressed to me, while an empty bottle of sleeping pills beside her. I managed to read, "I couldn't give up either of you. I love you both..." before breaking down.

My pride had surely killed her. How could I live with that?