Incompatible Needs Pt. 02

But more than that, more importantly than that, we were suddenly spending a lot more time together just as "us." While we didn't work at the same company, we both worked in roles that normally had overlap, and we could brainstorm how to deal with issues at our respective jobs. When she didn't understand why her project manager might ask for something, I could give her insight. When I was trying to figure out why one of my developers was being recalcitrant, she could explain.

We had done this before, of course. During our lunches, the ones where we used our mouths for eating food and talking, we had already had these kinds of conversations. But there's a difference between that kind of occasional check-in and having someone essentially on-call. We both got better at our jobs by having these reliable insights, and it strengthened our bond further. It was like having an office wife that I could actually fuck without getting walked out of the building with a box of my belongings.

Anne noticed.

At first, she liked it. She had a bunch of shared history with Helen, having known her longer. The two of us having this little thing to ourselves, like she had that shared history, was good. It gave some parity. But eventually, after a couple of months, that started to change. The thing about a shared history is that you're not going to build more of it; a shared future, sure, but not more history. It's a finite resource. The other thing is that a history is just that: a history. It's not in your face all the time, affecting your present. What was happening with me and Helen was.

As dumb as this sounds, part of the problem that manifested first had to do with our three jobs. Helen was a developer, and I was a project manager. In any corporation, those two are allies; sometimes uneasy ones, but allies nonetheless. Anne was in sales. That made her, if not the enemy, then at least part of an unfriendly faction. Sales made promises it couldn't keep, which project managers were then required to deliver on, by making developers try to do the impossible. Tale as old as capitalism.

I'd joked with Anne about it before. Helen had joked with Anne about it before. It was all in good fun. But when Helen and I joked about it together with Anne? It suddenly was not. She didn't say it outright, but she felt like we were ganging up on her, which was silly; none of us worked together. Just our tribes ragging on hers. No different than a football club rivalry. And no one takes those seriously, right?

It's strange where cracks can appear in a relationship. It's strange how they can be so easy to miss, stranger still how trying to fix them sometimes ends up widening them.

Anne tried to get closer to each of us individually. She felt things slipping away from her, but Helen and I hadn't noticed yet. Unfortunately, her efforts had the opposite effect. In a two person relationship, Anne's playful competitiveness, while not necessarily healthy over the long term, could be fun. There were times when it had invigorated our marriage after we'd had an argument, or just when we were starting to grow a bit distant. She'd be a little not-so-faux jealous, or reel me in with a hint of sexual favors in exchange for emotional initmacy, or something similar. Like I said, not necessarily healthy, but sort of okay as an opening gambit to restore real intimacy.

But in a three person relationship? It was like pouring gasoline on a fire. What was meant as playful attempts to spur us on to being intimate with her came across as her manipulating us; Helen and I had each other to rely on, and we didn't play those games amongst our pairing. We were both very straightforward; programmers and project managers are, it's a necessary part of being good at the job. But Anne was used to everything being a negotiation, a sales pitch, an opening of the kimono. And that just ended up pissing us off. We wanted to be the grownups, and she wanted to play games.

Worse, it felt, even though I don't think she intended this, as though she was playing us one against the other. "Oh, Helen, it's so sweet that you offered to do the dishes tonight, but Steve already said he would. How about you come hang out with me on the couch for a while?" "Thanks, Helen, but I'm already going out with Steve tonight for dinner. You could join us, but I was hoping we could get in some husband and wife time; you don't mind, do you?" Any individual interaction seemed innocent. But as "us" time for the three of us gave way more and more to "Anne" time for her two pairings, it seemed far less so.

If she had just been honest about what she was feeling, it could have all been avoided, but honesty in sales negotiations is just another tactic. If things had been different, maybe we would have navigated that successfully. Maybe Helen and I would have realized what was going on, or Anne would have pulled back when she realized she was making things worse. We'll never know, because of what happened next.

Helen finally fell pregnant. We had been fucking regularly for months, and it was rare that two days in a row passed without me leaving an offering for my fertility goddess, but nothing had happened. We were starting to become low key concerned. I knew that I was okay, because of the testing I'd gone through when Anne was trying to get pregnant. But just as we were about to start talking about Helen going to get checked out, there was no need.

It was a joyous occasion at first; the answer to mine and Anne's prayers. I didn't notice, because of my own happiness, how muted hers seemed to be. I was oblivious, but this was the beginning of the end for our happy family. In the competition between her and Helen for my affection, the competition that existed only in her mind, she could never win now. And that meant that she stopped playing.

The center still held for a little longer, but it quickly became apparent that things were wrong. When she first called me "pervert," back when I was pushing for our new relationship, and us "lovebirds," when she found Helen and me together for the first time, her voice was a drop of honey mixed with a cup of venom. Since then, she'd used them infrequently, occasionally teasingly, but mostly lovingly; a cup of honey with a drop of venom. But now, with Helen's pregnancy confirmed, the mix began to shift slowly back. In her mind, her "lovebirds" were pushing her out of their nest. Her "pervert" just wanted to fuck his girlfriend.

She grew colder towards us. Skipped "together times" with each of us and as a throuple. Started working later, because, "Hey, we've got to be able to afford the kid." "The kid." Not "our baby," or even "our kid." Just "the kid." Occasionally, although she always claimed it was a slip of the tongue, "your kid."

We tried to pull her back in, tried to show her she was loved. Helen and I weren't dumb; we might have missed the problems before the pregnancy, but our eyes were wide open now. We knew what was causing this rift. But any attempt to address it led to Anne shutting us down. We didn't know if she was insulating herself from us, if she was trying to process her pain, or if she couldn't cope with the thought that somehow she was no longer an equal to Helen-- something we did everything we could to dissuade-- but things just kept getting worse.

When Helen was three months into her pregnancy, when we were nine months into our time as a group, Anne dropped a bomb on us.

We were sitting around the dinner table, having just finished our meal. Things had been very tense for the previous two days, but the meal itself had been friendly, almost like old times. It felt like maybe Anne was finally thawing. Maybe we'd get through this together. She looked away for a moment, then back to us.

"I love you both very much." Helen and I took each other's hands, and I reached for Anne. She frowned slightly and pulled away. "This is not... this has nothing to do with how much I love you. I want us to be together, but... I just need... I..." My wife, our lover, took a deep breath.

"I want to start seeing other people."

Helen and I reeled backwards in our chairs, mouths agape. No one said anything for a long moment. Was she joking? But with one look, we could tell she wasn't. Anne's bearing and expression were resolute, almost arrogant, daring us to challenge her.

I could only stammer, "Wh-- What? Why?" Helen's hand crushed mine.

"It has nothing to do with my love for you. I just..." She looked away. "You've both been so busy. Getting ready for the kid and... and talking about your work. Spending time playing those silly games. I'm not a priority for you right now, and that's... that's okay. But I need to get my needs met."

Helen screamed "Bullshit! We're not the ones working late! We're not the ones skipping dates! We're not the ones sniping at our partners! We're not the ones that have been turning this house into a goddamned icebox, you fucking cunt!"

"No. You're just the one that's pregnant with my husband's baby." And there it was. Out in the open. The wound that could never heal, that would always hurt.

My voice was raw with pain. "Anne... why-- we can work through this. We've... you told me that you want this to work. For us to work. You promised me that you'd do what you needed to--"

She interrupted. "And I am, Steve. I need to..." She looked down at her hands. "I know I'm being unfair. But I can't-- I don't know how to make this ache go away. I don't have to be the center of your universe, or Helen's. But I need to at least be a star in it. And I'm not anymore. For it to work... I need... I need..."

I gritted my teeth. "That is absolute bullshit. You're the one that's been pulling away, not us. You're the one that's refusing to spend time together." I spat out, "And you're the one that wants to cheat."

She shouted, "I'm not cheating! Any more than you were when you fucked Helen!" Her demeanor changed now, all gritted teeth and barely suppressed rage. "I told you-- told you that I-- you pretended it was this big gift that you were going to let me be with her, that your being with her was only incidental, no threat to our marriage. And then you fell in love with her, and you started talking about me behind my back, and you got her pregnant, and she replaced me as your wife!"

The room went silent again. "... What?" I couldn't believe what I was hearing. "Anne... no one could replace you. No one. Just like..." I stopped, realizing what I was about to say. She was planning to date other men. She was planning to replace me, at least a little bit.

Her eyes flashed with triumph. "Ah hah! You see what it's like now, don't you? Huh, 'babe?' Doesn't feel so good, does it, thinking you're not enough man, huh? How do you think I've felt for the last three months, not... not..." She shook her head. "But that's not what this is about. You two are-- I love you. I want to be with you. But it's not... I need more, I need-- "

Helen gasped. "You fucking bitch! You're doing it again!"

Anne looked at her, confused, "What are you talking about? I've never-- "

Helen wasn't even paying attention to what Anne was saying. She was still stuck in her own thought processes. But then she shouted, "No! I'm not doing this again! I'm not going to just be part of your fucking harem again, Anne!"

I turned my head towards her. "What?"

Tears ran down her face. "She-- she did this in school. She'd-- she'd get two or three guys on a string, tell them she was seeing all of them and ME! and then have them dance. See who could show the most love for her. Like some fucking-- like she was a sultan and they were her fucking harem."

Anne screwed up her face. "It wasn't a harem, Helen. It was just--"

"Yeah, yeah, it was just you being an insecure cunt and not worrying about who you hurt." Anne opened her mouth and Helen yelled, "Shut the fuck up, you cheating slut!" Her fingers gripped the edge of the table. For just a moment, I thought that she was about to flip it over. "I'm not doing it again, Anne! I thought you'd changed. I thought... thought that... the way you were with Steve, that you'd changed. That you were loyal. That you could... that you could actually be someone who loved people, that was in love with us." She stood, sobbing. "I can't-- I won't do this!" Her chair was knocked over with a clatter as she ran from the room.

I stood up and Anne just muttered, "Sure. Go follow her."

I planted my hands on the table, looming over my wife. "When."

"When what?" She sat back, coolly regarding me.

"When were you planning to cheat on us? Or have you already done it? Is that why you've been so much more of a bitch for the last two days?"

She scoffed, "I'm not going to cheat on you. I've never cheated on anyone. I'm telling you what's going to happen. I wouldn't lie to you or try to hide it from you; I'm not cheating." She sighed. "I met someone while I was at the coffee shop a couple of days ago. He asked me out. I was planning to go out for drinks tonight with him; it's Friday and Helen hasn't been up for drinks and dancing since the little bun went in her oven. I didn't say anything because I didn't want to be cruel and have this hanging over your heads."

I sneered, "Have us try to talk sense into you, you mean." My head suddenly felt heavy, and it hung low as if on its own. "I can't stop you. But, please, I'm begging you, stay. We want you to stay. We want to work through this. Don't do this. Don't leave, Anne. Don't throw us away."

"I'm not throwing us away. I love you, and I'll still be with you. Just like you can still be with me and Helen at the same time. I just need someone to pay attention to me while you're so busy with her."

I looked up at her, fury burning my insides. I could feel my temperature rising, my face turning red. "Fuck. You. I'm only with Helen because you wanted to be with Helen." She started to speak. "Don't. This is the third time we've had this argument, and I'm done with it. You told me the last two times you were content with the arrangement. When we told you we were in love, you were ecstatic. I'm not doing this again. Make up your fucking mind!"

My breathing slowed. My anger started to cool to something worse: contempt. I sneered, "You want to go? Fucking go. But if you leave, don't come back. This isn't an open relationship, you bitch. I don't want this. Helen doesn't want this. We've begged you not to. You are cheating on us, no matter what you tell yourself. If you go, fucking stay gone. If you go fuck another man, if you even go have a goddamned drink, I will fucking divorce you. This isn't a threat or one of your fucking negotiation tactics. It's what will happen. I. Will. Divorce. You."

She looked away as she stood up and headed to the door. Her glance briefly turned towards me as she opened it. She frowned; disappointment? Regret? Guilt? I couldn't tell. "I'll be back late. Don't wait up." And with that, she walked out the door.

I stood alone in our home. My shoulders slumped. I was... no. No, I wasn't. I wasn't alone. Helen was here. I wasn't alone, and she wasn't alone. She needed to know that. I heard my sweetheart crying and went to find her. She needed me, and I needed her.

Helen was sitting on my bed crying. She looked at me and held her arms up like a child begging to be picked up, to be comforted. I rushed to her and gave her all of the love that I could, hugging her tightly to me as a new paroxysm of sobs started. "Shhh, shhh. It's going to be okay. I'm here. Shhh. I love you."

She hugged me close as I smoothed her hair and patted her, until she finally regained the power of speech. "What are we going to do?"

I kneeled down in front of her and wiped her tears away. "We'll get through it together, whatever we do. I love you, okay? I'm in love with you. No matter what else happens, that's true. You are my sweetheart, my girlfriend, the mother of our child. I will always be yours, okay? You will always be able to count on me."

She tried to maintain control, covering her mouth and nodding. "I-- I love you, too." She looked down at her feet. "I'm sorry. I thought-- thought that A--hhh-anne h-- had changed. Th-- thought she..." Her words were erased by her grief.

I nodded. "Yeah. I... I don't know." I closed my eyes. "We can't... if she comes back, we can't... this has to be the end, you know that, right? If she does this and gets away with it, if she..." I trailed off, unable to keep talking, to keep thinking of the notion of my wife cheating on us. Her lying with another man, a thing she swore she would never do. I was overcome with nausea. It wasn't even the idea of her being with another man so much; it was of her utter disrespect, of her breaking a vow with me, a promise to Helen, of taking our relationship and throwing it back in our faces as both the purported cause of her selfishness and the justification for it.

Helen nodded miserably. "What if... what if she changes her mind? Doesn't go through with it?"

I didn't know. It seemed foolish to hope for something like that. And even if she did, would that really change anything? She was willing to hurt us over things that we had all agreed were okay. Over things she wouldn't even talk to us about. We wanted to help her. She was our Anne. Or had been, at least; that was uncertain now. Why wouldn't she just let us try to help?

"I just... I don't know, Helen. We'll have to play it by ear, I suppose." My voice broke. "But I... I wouldn't count on it."

She began to sob again, and I took her into my arms. We laid together on the bed, her crying and me comforting her, until she fell asleep, still dressed in her daytime clothes. Sleep didn't come for me. Regardless of what Anne said, I'd be up until she was home.

She had left at seven, and it was almost eleven before I saw her headlights shine down below the bedroom window. I eased out of the bed and kissed my sweetheart softly on the forehead; she should sleep. Whatever happened next, we weren't going to resolve it tonight. I was too tired and angry to make good decisions, and I knew Helen wasn't in the right place for it, either. The bitch could wait for our verdict until morning. But I was still going to meet her at the door, so I could weigh the evidence tonight.

I had just descended the stairs when the door opened. Anne ran to me. Her makeup was all but gone, remnants of her mascara still trailing down her cheeks. She was distraught; clearly something hadn't gone as she'd expected. Before she could reach me, I put an arm out to stop her. "I told you to not come back." Regardless of what she had or had not done, she was going to fucking sweat. Not what the relationship books would advise, but fuck 'em. Their wife hadn't just threatened to bang some other dude.

She came up short, her eyes disbelieving. I had never denied her comfort before, no matter how angry I'd been. This was uncharted territory for both of us, but she didn't even have a compass. "I... I didn't..."

"Wow, he must have been a bad lay if you're this upset. Home early, too. Tiny dick, or did he just realize what a fucking bitch you are?" My anger was going from simmering to boiling over.

Her eyes were disbelieving for a moment, then she was consumed by sorrow. She sobbed, "I didn't... couldn't... just... just drove around..."

I tried to not show any hint of relief on my face. I pressed on, letting my resentment carry me, driving me to cruelty. I taunted, "Yeah, right. Sure your mascara isn't running because you were too busy gagging on his cock? I know your reflex is mostly gone, but hey, maybe the nerves got to you. First new dick in eight years, after all." I paused, glaring. "Or was it? I never expected you to do this, so who fucking knows what else you've been up to."

Anne wept openly now, her hands outstretched, begging me to take her back. Like Helen earlier, wanting to be comforted like a child. I felt no urge to this time. "I've never! I didn't tonight, and I've-- I'd never-- never do that to you! I just..." her voice faded, and she sounded like a lost little girl, begging to escape a punishment she knew was deserved. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!"