Man Plans, God Laughs

I knew I could never satisfactorily explain to my husband the connection that Rafe and I shared, but I knew Mike's love for me would win out in the end. I would start out trying to get Mike to agree to me keeping Rafe as a lover on the side, and fall back to keeping the marriage alive as a last measure. I suggested counseling. He agreed.

Our first session with the counselor didn't go very well for me. The counselor was a woman, but like Mike, she couldn't understand that I just couldn't ignore my attraction to Rafe. I guess I was expecting her to be more understanding, maybe be on my side.

"Did your vows mean nothing to you, then, Mrs. McGowan?" she asked after I finished telling my story.

"No, they mean everything to me, but this... this... is different," I explained. "It's like nothing I've ever experienced before. You're a woman. You've experienced arousal before. Well, it's like that... only so much stronger, almost like I've been drugged," I said.

I could tell by looking at her face that she didn't believe me. Mike just looked bemused.

"Men often get blamed for thinking with their 'small brains,' but women are just as guilty of doing it, if today's divorce statistics are any indicator," the counselor calmly told my wife. "Yes, 'the thunderbolt' is a real thing, but most people realize they have a choice to ignore that. You chose to give in to your base desires."

I couldn't believe this woman was, in effect, telling me I had no self-control. It was the next thing to calling me a slut.

Then she asked me the question that probably sealed the deal for the divorce.

"If Mike could forgive you and took you back, do you think would you be able to resist your physical urges and stay true to your husband?"

Goddamn, I thought that woman would be on my side. I just sat there, afraid to even answer the question. Better than a lie detector, Mike would know I was lying.

"I love you, Mike. Please, can't you work with me on this? I don't love him, but I have to have him. It's the best sex of my life. Don't ask me to give that up."

I was crying hard when I finished talking. I took a quick look at Mike, expecting to see a sign that his resolve was weakening. After all, he admitted he still loved me. I saw dead eyes... nothing.

"I'm sorry, Traci. I do love you back, but I won't give you a free pass to cheat on me. And I can't forgive what you've already done.

"I'm sorry I was not man enough for you."

"You are more than man enough for me, Mike. I love you," I said. "I don't love him. I will give him up if that is what keeps us together. Please, don't give up on us. I haven't."

"You gave up on us the first time you fucked that asshole," he fired back. "Don't put this on me. I just never knew how selfish you are. It's all about you, after all.

"And you just don't love me as much as I love you."

Two weeks after seeing the counselor for the last time, I was in my bedroom riding Rafe like a stallion. I didn't know if Mike was having me watched, but at that point I didn't care. I had seen Rafe on campus the day previous, and called him when I got back to my office. He was more than willing to come for a lunchtime tryst. Yes, the sex was outstanding.

The divorce was finalized six months later. During that time, Rafe and I had sex dozens of times. The sex was always fantastic. He was my kryptonite. I loved Mike, but I lusted after Rafe. I had to have him. I knew I wasn't going to ever get Mike back because of that. He didn't love me enough to let me have Rafe.

Mike:

I couldn't believe Traci actually tried to get me to let her keep her boyfriend and still stay married to me. "If you really love me..." What a fucking delusional bitch! Forget the boyfriend, there was no way we were going to stay married, period. I might have been a clueless cuckold, but I wasn't going to be a dumbass cuck, too.

I was very surprised that the marriage counselor we got didn't live in the same dreamland she did. She practically called my wife a slut at our first session, and it didn't get any better from there. She ended our sessions after the fourth one, telling my wife there was no way I was going to waver from my position, and that she supported me. I thought Traci was going to fall through the floor when the counselor told her about ending the sessions.

I don't know if Traci asked my daughters to try to intercede on her behalf, but they both tried hard.

"You're breaking up the family, Daddy," my youngest cried when I told her.

"No, Baby, I'm not breaking up the family. Your mother did that. I'm just making it legal," I said.

She screwed up her face and furrowed her brow. I could tell she was thinking hard.

"I guess you're right, Daddy," she finally said.

Rafe:

I really didn't want to ruin Traci's marriage, but I looked at it as more her husband's problem. I knew she really loved the guy, but we had an amazing physical connection, and the sex was practically otherworldly. If she wanted to have me, hell, yes, I was going to give it to her.

I supposed I couldn't blame him for not wanting to be a cuckold, but again, that's between Traci and him. Mine is not to wonder why, just to fuck or die...

Traci stayed away from me for two weeks after Mike filed for divorce. When he didn't relent and take her back, we restarted our affair. In fact, things even improved, because with Mike out of the way, I was getting all of her physical attention. I have to say that Traci was the best fuck I've ever had.

Despite Traci being a great fuck, I never thought we'd last any real length of time. At 45, she wasn't marriage material. I knew I wanted children of my own, and she already had two grown kids. Also, if she could do what she did to the man she said she loved above all else, what could I expect? I continued to look for Miss Right, although I didn't talk about it with Traci. She had enough on her mind after losing Mike.

Things changed when I found Lucy Ralston about a year after Traci got divorced. She was 24 with short brown hair, a lithe dancer's body and we hit it off right from the start. I didn't tell Traci about Lucy at first, but finally 'fessed up after about two months. I knew I hurt Traci's feelings, but it wasn't like Traci actually loved me. She and I absolutely connected physically, but emotionally we were just good friends. When Lucy and I committed to being exclusive, I had to tell Traci we were over.

"But I gave up my husband for you!" Traci cried when I told her.

"No, you didn't. You gave up your husband for sex with me. There was never an us. It was all about fantastic sex. And that was your choice. But that's not my choice. My choice is about having a wife and family," I said.

Traci:

I was devastated when Rafe told me he was going to be exclusive with Lucy and would no longer have sex with me.

"But I gave up my husband for you!" I cried when he told me.

Rafe gave me a look I could only see as pitying.

"No, you didn't. You gave up your husband for sex with me," he corrected.

I knew he was right, but still...

Then, of course, there was the embarrassment of my kids finding out. Mike didn't gild the lily when we split up, telling the kids that I cheated on him multiple times for the "best sex of your mother's life." Neither of the kids were happy with me, but they eventually got over it. Telling them a year and a half later that Rafe left me so he could have a family with a younger woman just made me look... pathetic, even to me. I didn't ask them not to tell their father, but I sure was hoping they wouldn't.

I'll admit to not exactly coming forward with this development in my life. When the kids came home for Christmas, my older daughter just nonchalantly asked if they were going to meet my "boyfriend." At that point I confessed we were no longer together.

"So you gave up a quarter of a century of love with Dad for a couple of years of sex with some younger guy. Oh, wait, I'm sorry; a couple of years of the best sex of your life," my daughter bitched.

There wasn't much I could say. I looked down at the floor.

Losing Rafe actually wasn't as bad as losing Mike. I mean, Rafe was an amazing sex partner, but Mike was my soul mate, my everything. Going home to an empty apartment after work every day was soul-crushing, but at least I could look forward to amazing sex several times a week. When Rafe left, I had nothing.

Loneliness turned out to be horrible, so I guess I was pretty receptive to dating at first. I was surprised that most of the men interested were in their 30s; some even in their 20s. Maybe this old woman didn't look too bad for 47. I enjoyed the company of a number of men, although none even approached the quality of my ex.

Maybe because I had been out of the dating scene for so long, but I definitely noticed that men's expectations had most certainly changed in a quarter-century, especially among the younger guys. They seemed like they expected sex on the first date, and if that didn't happen, there usually wasn't a second date. Not that I was a prude at this point, but I also wasn't looking to jump into bed with everybody and anybody.

When sex did happen, it was usually pretty good from my standpoint, and all of my partners seemed very satisfied. The younger guys especially seemed to really be into my big boobs, while the older guys seemed more into oral sex. Most of the sex was just fucking, though. I guess I didn't date anyone long enough to get into actual lovemaking. I REALLY missed lovemaking.

I tried to be subtle when I talked to the kids and inquired about Mike. I didn't think he was dating at all, which meant I still had a shot at getting him back. I knew the odds weren't very good, but why wouldn't he date me if he was going to be dating other divorced women. We had a great marriage for 23 years.

I knew, though, that I would have to be the aggressor if that was going to happen.

"Mike, would you maybe want to get a cup of coffee with me sometime," I said, after he answered his phone when I called a few months later. "I know I hurt you by what I did and I'm sorry about that, but I'd really like it if we could be friends, the kind who sit down and drink coffee together and maybe sometimes even eat together. I really miss sitting down with you and kibitzing."

"Uh, sure Traci, we could do that, I think," he responded warily. "I... I do miss your company, and I think I'm in a much better place now than I was."

We set up our coffee date for the next Saturday.

Mike:

I have to admit that Traci looked fantastic when she walked into the Starbucks where we agreed to meet. I hadn't seen her in two years, and time didn't hurt her one bit. She didn't look a bit older and her weight was probably the same as the last time I saw her. She had cut her hair up to her shoulders, and the tight sweater she had on really showed off her full breasts. She wore almost no makeup, which just highlighted the fact that she was still a good-looking woman.

I stood up to greet her and stopped in my tracks, not being sure if I should hug her or not. She answered that question for me by walking right into my space, kissing me softly on the cheek and wrapping her arms around me. I returned the hug.

"How come somebody hasn't swept you away by now?" I asked her in all sincerity.

She blushed adorably.

"Apparently, not everyone has your good taste," she answered with a smile on her face.

I looked down to regroup. We ordered our coffees and each got a pastry.

We talked about a lot of different topics, just like we did when we were married. The talking was so good we each had a second cup of the over-brewed Starbucks caffeine.

"This was fun, Traci," I said as we stood up to go. "How about next time we do lunch?"

I think I surprised her with that invitation, because her eyes got big as she looked at me.

"Sure. That would be nice," she said quietly. "Give me your phone and I'll put in my new number."

I called her two weeks later and set up a lunch date. Date. Huh. It had been over 25 years since I went on any kind of date, absolutely none since Traci and I divorced. Although I was crushed by what Traci had done to me, I tried my best to feign indifference to the general public. In reality, however, what she did absolutely ripped my heart out, and I had stayed away from all women since the divorce.

Traci and I enjoyed a very nice lunch at our favorite Italian restaurant one Saturday afternoon. I know she was hoping I would invite her over to my apartment after lunch, but she was hoping for too much. I walked her to her car in the parking lot, gave her a friendly kiss on the cheek and walked to my car.

We enjoyed several lunches over the next year. I kept it to lunches because I could control things better. In my mind, dinner gets you to after dinner, which gets you to... I wasn't going anywhere near that.

Traci:

Mike must have gotten smarter through the years. I knew he enjoyed the time we spent together, but he never asked me out to dinner. I figured at one point he would go there, and from there it would just be a small step to us spending the night together. I knew he wasn't dating and I figured if I could rock his world once I would have a fighting chance to get him back. He just never game me that chance. Lunch at IHOP is hardly conducive to winding up in bed.

I took the hint and started dating others again. I guess I would just have to accept that I was probably going to just be another piece of ass on the dating scene.

Mike:

Traci fucked with my head so badly I didn't actually date any women for five years. I definitely didn't consider my lunches with Traci as dates, although I know she considered those as dates.

I was in my favorite liquor store checking out the many brands of tequila available, looking for something new, when I sensed a presence to my right. She was apparently doing the same thing I was. She looked pleasant enough, so I figured she could benefit from my extensive knowledge of distilled spirits. I was just trying to be friendly.

"Are you looking to drink the tequila or drown it?" I inquired with a smile on my face.

"I would never drown a good tequila. I drink my tequila like I drink my coffee: straight up with nothing in it," she answered. "Margaritas are fine for parties, but when I'm drinking for real, I don't mix."

Wow. A woman with a clue. I didn't know any woman who drinks tequila straight up. For the first time, I turned to face the woman. Shit. Drinks tequila straight up and looks pretty damn good. No rings on her left hand either.

I was guessing she was a little younger than me. She had a mop of curly dark auburn hair almost to her shoulders. Her skin was pale and her eyes were a sparkling blue. I was guessing Irish, like me.

I didn't realize I was staring until I heard her speak, then I realized that she asked me a question.

"Subtle. Real subtle," she said when I zoned back in to the real world.

I know I colored.

"I'm sorry. I was lost in the moment," I said weakly. "A dozen brands of tequila and a beautiful woman who understands how to drink the stuff. That doesn't happen very often in my world."

She gave me a crooked smile. I figured she was about to move on when she spoke again.

"And what world would that be, Mr. Tequila Snob?" she asked.

"Loserville, USA, ma'am," I mumbled.

"Ma'am? Did you just ma'am me?" she asked incredulously. "Wow. Do I look like your mother or something?"

"Sorry about that. It's a manners thing. Blame that on my parents. But no, you don't look like my mother. I loved my mother to death, but not on her best day did she look as good as you."

I couldn't believe that actually came out of my mouth. I winced. She looked surprised, then that look slowly morphed into a sly smile. By that point, I had taken a good look at what appeared to be a tight, curvy body for a woman her age.

"So why Loserville, Mr. Tequila Snob? If we're going to be polite, you don't look like you'd have any problem getting a date or two."

"I haven't been on a date in five years... since I divorced my cheating-ass wife," I said quietly.

"Ooh. Sorry about that," she said, looking uncomfortable.

There was an uncomfortable silence for more than a few seconds. I didn't have enough game to break the logjam, but she did, thankfully.

"So what's your recommendation?" she asked, going back to the tequila.

"I'm a big fan of Don Julio Blanco, and I also like the new Guy Fieri-Sammy Hagar Santo tequila," I answered. "But if it's a real special occasion, then go for the Don Julio 1942. Expensive as hell, but it's really good stuff."

"What do you consider expensive?" she asked.

"A buck 85 for a bottle," I answered. "Primo stuff."

She nodded at me, ending the conversation, I thought. I grabbed a bottle of the Santo off the shelf. Then I thought, 'what the hell.' I stuck out my hand.

"Mike McGowan. How would you like to do some tequila sampling next door, on me? Then you could make a more informed decision," I said, giving her my most sincere look.

She gave me that crooked smile again, looked me up and down blatantly, then accepted my invite. We walked next door to the bar, and spent the next two hours sampling tequila by the glass. I made sure to buy us a couple of servings of snacks, too, because I didn't want either of us getting picked up for a DWI.

I had Rose Smart's digits when we left the bar.

I can't even begin to explain what went on in my head for the next week. I was thrilled that I got the number of a beautiful woman, but that meant that I needed to call her for a date. The last time I went on a date was right before the American Revolution. Shit. I guessed I could take her to a restaurant. Maybe I could find a roller skating rink... or a bowling alley. I got queasy.

I had a good job and made decent money. For the most part, people seemed to like me. I was well-read about current events, and I would never talk politics on a date. I noticed I was sweating profusely.

I figured out that one thing hadn't changed. When it comes to dating, women have all the power... and they know it. She had given me her number without me having to pull a gun on her, though. That had to count in my favor, didn't it?

The debate in my brain raged on for several days and might have gone on for a lot longer except for fate stepping in: fate disguised as Anna Sciortino, whom I literally stepped into in the hallway in the office where I worked. I was still trying to sort out what to do about Rose when I bumped into Anna. She stumbled on her three-inch heels and I grabbed her arms to stop her from falling, apologizing at the same time.

"I know I'm not very big, but I don't think you would have noticed I was there if I had bells and whistles on," Anna said to me after I steadied her. "Problem?"

Anna was probably the same age as my younger daughter. We would talk occasionally, usually with me giving her some sort of fatherly advice about something. She was also my in-person advisor on the younger generation. If I needed something explained to me that was generational and I didn't want to call my kids, I would find Anna and she would explain things to me face to face in words that made sense to my 50-year-old brain.

"Uhhh... yeah, actually," I mumbled, probably sounding like a feeble buffoon.

Anna looked up at my face like she was trying to read a sign. She broke into her patented goofy grin. I was perplexed; not uncommon.

"Would this problem have to do with a girl... a woman?" she said in this sing-song manner.

"Kind of... yeah, I guess so... yes," I continued mumbling.

She stared at me for a few seconds, then made a decision of some kind.