The Grass Isn't Always Greener

Some months ago, on an online news site that I read, the sex and relationship therapist who runs an advice column there had been sent a question from a young lady. The woman started off by stating that she was madly in love with their boyfriend of 6 years, and that he was someone with whom she wanted to spend the rest of her life with, they were talking about marriage and plans for their future together. The issue she had was that she had met her boyfriend when she was only 17 and he was 21. She didn't have much experience, and wanted to have one last period of time where both she, and by extension he, could see and sleep with other people. She was hoping for a 6 month grace period prior to the wedding.

The therapist naturally approached this as objectively as she could. She asked some pertinent questions in her response, such as will you still remain together during this time, will the other person have veto power over someone you want to see, what will you do if someone gets upset. She advised a cautious approach, especially taking a previously monogamous relationship to an open one, and finished off with the statement that "The grass is not always greener."

As I read this, and was pondering whether to actually commence writing on LE, I thought that this was a great concept for a story, and it has been bubbling away ever since. So as I lie in bed with covid, and I write these stories, I finally decided to try and knock out this one as well.

If you are interested in the actual, real-world column, google: McKimmie woman's sex request before wedding and you should find it.

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Hope had been nervous for weeks leading to this point. She was sure with all of her heart that she wanted to be with Michel for the rest of her years, he was her soul mate, her lover, her best friend and her world. He was also her confidant, in all things but one, but this evening, that was about to change.

She had spoken to nobody about the one thing she had kept from Michel, not even her mother, with whom she shared everything, not even her girlfriends who she had grown up with and first talked about boys and dreams. The only caveat was more a technicality; she had sent a question to a well-known couples and sex therapist that ran a relationship column for the local newspaper. The advice she had received back after it was finally published, she saw as cautiously optimistic though fraught. Hope had read and re-read the response numerous times, and as their wedding approached, she had determined that it was now or never.

Michel would understand, and this would prove their love for each other, strengthen their connection, and help bind them together in partnership for the rest of their lives.

She steeled herself and confirmed within her own mind and heart that tonight was going to be the night, it had to be. She had spared no detail. This had to be perfect.

Hope had met the tall, athletic and devilishly handsome Michel when she was only seventeen. He was older at 21, and a friend of her cousin. She had been instantly drawn to him, and suddenly the corny concept of love at first sight, didn't seem so corny anymore.

It was she who chased him, though the chase didn't last long. Hope was beautiful, alluring and had a wonderful personality to go with it. Michel didn't stand a chance, and truth be told, he didn't want to. He was deliriously happy to have been ensnared by this angelic creature, to have his heart pierced with her Cupid's arrow.

Theirs had been a whirlwind romance, even though she initially lied to him. She had told Michel that she was twenty, fearful as she was that her age would turn him off. It was a lie she hated having to tell, but not one that she regretted as the goal of capturing him was well worth it. Only when her milestone eighteenth birthday was approaching, had he discovered her duplicity. By then however, he was enthralled by her golden locks, elfin-like beauty and petite but long limbed body. He also found her to be one of the sweetest people he had ever met, and other than the lie about her age, she seemed to be honest, upfront and genuine in everything she did.

Six years later, he had proposed and to his great joy, she had accepted, sealing the promise of forever with a night of unbridled, passionate sex that left him unable to walk properly the next day. Hope was happier than at any other moment in her life, they had been discussing where they would live, what they would do, and when they would have children. It was as if they were building their future virtually, in a dream of enduring love, friendship and faithfulness. Hope's life was perfect, all for one thing. That one little question she had in the back of her mind. The one reservation that was to be discussed tonight.

It had to be perfect.

For his part, Michel Corbin worked at a local high school as a PE and English teacher, recently being appointed as an assistant principal for Year 8. His star was rising and he had designs on eventually becoming a principal himself. Having the love of a beautiful woman who had agreed to be his wife was the icing on the cake in his otherwise wonderful world.

His mind however, had recently become clouded, even with a heart full of love for his betrothed. Hope had been in a strange mood of late, and whilst he wasn't overly concerned for her, or them, he wanted to do something special for the woman he loved. He had planned for a romantic getaway for the coming weekend, and now with the bookings confirmed at a beautiful little bed & breakfast in the Hunter Valley, he was ecstatic. He could barely conceal the excitement that he felt. He was going to surprise her this evening, and hopefully to have some wonderful love making afterwards.

After the almost hour long trip from work to his home, he bounded up the stairs to their rented apartment. He had a dozen red roses and a bottle of Hope's favourite, Moët & Chandon Brut Impérial Champagne. It was usually reserved for special occasions, but Michel felt that tonight was special, he wanted it to be special, he wanted to wow her, amaze her, and alleviate any lingering concerns, doubts or issues she may have had. He knew that she loved him, as he did her, this was merely to be a reaffirmation of that love, as they looked forward to building their life together.

As he entered the apartment however, it was he who was surprised. Hope had set numerous candles about the apartment, and with them lit and the lights dimmed, it cast the place into a beautiful and elegant yet strangely ethereal ambience. The small glass dining table was set for a romantic dinner, with the beautiful pewter candlesticks that had been gifted by his Aunt Gemma, in pride of place in the centre. The smells coming from the kitchen were divine. He smiled. Hope was clearly making an effort, which meant one of two things. She wanted something, or she wanted him. Even her wanting something usually ended with the latter. He smiled wickedly and felt his crotch twitch and harden slightly with anticipation.

"Hi sweetheart," she cooed as he entered. She was in the kitchen, wearing a sexy little off the shoulder yellow dress that he loved. It was scandalously short, showing the rounded curve of her bottom when she bent over. The twitch and hardness grew.

He silently dropped to a knee, in a genuflecting pose, as he proffered his lady the gifts he had bought her. Hope howled with delight and genuine affection as she accepted the flowers and champagne, both were her favourites and set her heart aflutter that he could be so debonair, so romantic. She placed them both on the bench carefully, as she dragged her man up to his feet, smothering his face in hot, wet kisses, leaving a trail of bright red lipstick in her train.

"Ooooh, something smells great!" he exclaimed with an exaggerated swagger as he spun her about and grabbed her greedily from behind, breathing her in. "Food smells good too."

She swatted at him playfully with a tea towel. "Down tiger. Dinner will be ready soon, go get cleaned up."

He kissed the nape of her neck, mauling her backside with his clutching, groping hands before he reluctantly moved off, playfully growling as he did.

He broke some kind of record for getting a shower, making sure to wash all the good bits with the scented body wash that he knew Hope loved. It was a strawberry shower gel that smelled both fresh and sweet and she said, made him taste even better. He was in a great mood as he dressed in loose fitting casual cargos and the black polo with monogram that she had recently bought him. It hugged his body well, accentuating his impressive physique, and the dark colour showcased his handsome face.

Dinner was excellent, as it usually was. Hope was an amazing cook, and had once harboured plans of becoming a chef. But hospitality work is a lonely business, and she had been talked out of it by a friend's older sister, claiming that working in a kitchen was a horrible career choice not compatible with strong relationships. Thus those dreams were dashed, and she instead put all her passion for food into making loved ones content and happy.

As the two of them sat back, admiring each other over a glass of champagne, Michel was beginning to think of what was to come. He appraised Hope with hungry eyes. But first he wanted to let her know of his plans.

"Hope I..." he spoke with a happy purpose and a massive smile, his heart aching for her, his body hungry for her.

But she held up her hand to shush him and as he gazed into her eyes the smile slowly faded from his face.

"Michel, I have something to say, and if I don't say it now," she suddenly looked worried in his eyes, concerned and nervous. She absently wrung her hands and cracked her knuckles. "Michel, I love you so much. I love you with all my heart and you make me so happy." She still looked nervous, and now those nerves began to infect Michel. Her words, her actions, they both spoke volumes.

"Hope, is there..."

She shushed him again.

"Michel, you are the best man I have ever known. Oh, how do I say this? I had everything planned in my head but it's all coming apart." The last part was whispered, eyes downcast.

"Michel, I have been giving a lot of thought to this, I even sent in a." she was almost stuttering with the nerves that were building up inside her, threatening to release any moment in a torrent of tears, "I sent in a question to...." she paused. This was harder than she had thought, harder than anything else she'd ever done. She knew then that she should have written a script. "Maybe you could read it instead?" She blurted it out, rushed and furious, her words tumbling over each other. "Maybe you could read what I sent? And the response."

As Michel sat, confused, Hope lept from her seat, a bundle of frantic energy. She mumbled to herself as she grabbed her phone, and quickly brought up the bookmarked page for the relationship and sex therapist column of Ishta Maddison. "Here," she said quietly, unsure of herself. Still she thrust the phone into Michel's hand, confusion and doubt clearly evident on his face. "Please, read it with an open mind, and an open heart. I love you so much."

He slowly looked down at Hope's phone. It was a known sex and couples advice column for the local online newspaper. He had read a few of them over the last year, always getting a bit of a vicarious thrill when reading the questions that some people asked. But now, Michel raised his head, and cocked an eyebrow towards Hope. She was clumsily pouring herself a large glass of the champagne before tilting her head back and swallowing it all in a single gulp.

He looked back down at the phone again and read, his heart breaking as he did so.

I am deeply in love with a man that I have been seeing for the last 6 years, since I was only 17. He is everything to me, and I want to grow old with him and I know he feels the same. I love him so much that it hurts, but I have this one reservation that stops me sleeping at night that gives me pause for our fast approaching wedding. My finance is the only man that I have been intimate with. He is older than me by 4 years, and I feel that I will be missing out on knowing other people. I want to know what it is like to be with someone else, it is a burning desire that I am struggling to overcome. I want to have a period before our wedding of 6 months, so that we can both be free to see and have sex with other people. How can I ask him, convince him, without ruining what we have?

Michel dropped the phone suddenly, and it clattered loudly across the glass top of the table.

It was the death knell of something that he had considered so beautiful, so pure. Now it was contaminated with dark deceit and illicit lust. Her reasons seemed inscrutable, impossible and illogical.

"Do you already have someone?" He managed to get out at last. His voice was hushed, but his pain was palpable.

"Michel, no, oh no, no, no. I could never cheat on you. Never in a million years." She reached out to hold his hand. It felt limp, lifeless as she grasped it, stroking the back of it tenderly. "You are my man in every way," she continued, but was shocked when he violently pulled his hand from hers.

"But I'm not, I won't be. This...." he gestured to the phone with a sweep of his hand, "this changes all that, this tells me that I'm not your everything.

"Why? Did I not love you enough? Is making love to me that horrible?" He pleaded, his voice harsh, his eyes searching.

This was the moment. She knew these questions would be asked, so simple a request, so hard a response. She clumsily poured another glass of the wine with shaking hands and swallowed hard.

"No Michel. No. I know that you love me, I see it every day, I feel it every moment. Your love for me is so wonderful, so sweet and tender, and you know that I can't get enough of making love to you. But this is not about any of those things, this is.... This is because I have so many questions about myself, about what I am, or have missed out on. I have so few experiences. We met when I was only seventeen, I was just a child. Now I'm a woman, but I've had only this one real relationship, and it is a great relationship, but I'm nervous, I'm concerned. I have feelings that stir inside me when I see my friends with their boyfriends, and I wonder what it would be like. Oh please don't," she said, seeing the tears on his face, "please don't cry. Oh God, I'm screwing this up, I'm wrecking everything."

He nodded silently and watched the woman that he had loved, repeatedly tell him that he was not enough for her even as she was trying to tell him the opposite. It was the intent of her words that outweighed the words themselves.

"But this is for both of us," she continued, trying to help him see through the darkness, see her light and understand her compassion and commitment to him. "You could see other people as well, it would be the two of us, reaffirming our relationship, our future marriage, our lives together, forever."

She stood from her seat and moved to him, draping her arms around his neck in a gentle, timid embrace. He looked up at her, this beauty, this rare soul that had captured his heart, and she leaned forward to kiss him tenderly on his lips. Her kiss was so soft, so perfect, yet now so ruined. Michel shuddered as the thought suddenly passed through his mind, of those lips, with other men. Doing things for them that were only meant for him.

"Can you please read the full article, and then discuss it with me? Please," she begged him, leaning down to kiss him again, but he twisted his head, and she caught him not on the lips, but the cheek. Undaunted but shaken slightly by his rejection, she continued, "This is as serious a moment in our lives as we have ever had, and.... And I need to know that you are going to be ok with discussing it with me, and be open to my love for you, but also open to the possibilities."

In a kind of haze, he gingerly reached for her phone once more, but he was clearly troubled and almost frightened of it. It was almost as though the phone were a serpent poised and ready to strike. He knew her passcode, so he unlocked her phone to gaze once more upon that insidious, horrific article. But even as he did, he considered that whilst he knew her passcode that maybe that was all he knew of her..... He had thought he knew everything before this evening. He felt small and alone in a world of new and terrible emotions.

Still, Michel forced himself to read the article, though he remained subdued as he did. At the least, it seemed that Ishta Maddison was trying to be as objective as possible, never telling her to actively engage this fantasy, this desire, but to be cautious. He skimmed over some of her pertinent points again and again, reading and re-reading what seemed like nails being hammered home in the lid of the coffin that was his hopes and dreams.

She had written her response with an air of caution but optimism.

Attempting to change a pre-existing monogamous relationship to an open relationship is risky and may have unforeseen and damaging consequences

Both people in the relationship can run the risk of numerous negative consequences when opening a relationship. Hurt, jealousy and feelings of betrayal can and do arise.

Communicate constantly about both your needs. And determine a solid and fundamental set of rules that you both agree to follow strictly. Rules and communication are the groundwork and foundation that are fundamental for an open relationship to not only survive but succeed.

Included with the rules you create for seeing other people, you need to confirm what will happen with your current relationship. Do you continue to see each other during this time, and have date nights that are set aside for you to be with other people, or do you place the current relationship into a holding pattern until you have finished with others?

Will you support each other during this time period and exploration, and if so, how?

Be aware that even you voicing your desire for this could impact your relationship. Take some time to make sure this is really what you want before discussing it.

Remember, the grass isn't always greener.

"The grass isn't always greener." He repeated that line, and looked up at Hope. True to her name, she had hope in her eyes, but there was the glisten of moisture at the corners. She knew that he was hurting, she knew that he was struggling. But at that point, he didn't think she knew just how much. The point about even expressing the desire impacting the relationship resonated with him, and he knew it to be true, as he seriously doubted the love that she professed for him. It was the first time in their relationship that he had called her love and commitment to him into question. He struggled to see how they would navigate their way to their wedding in seven months' time.

"And you want this?" He finally asked her with a sombre voice. The pain felt like she was dying, and he had to get her to repent her sins, to confess and bare her soul.

She nodded.

"You want this over our wedding?"

"No!" she almost shouted. "Not over our wedding, never over our wedding. I want to be your wife, and grow old with you. I want to be the mother to your children and watch our grandkids with you in my arms. I want to be with you until the day that I die."

"But..." he added, letting the silence draw on, waiting for her to respond with what he knew she would, what he knew she must.

"But, I want to experience... things... people, the life that exists outside of us. I don't want to place it above our wedding, just..... before, I just want, need a little time. Oh, Michel, I love you so much, I need you so much." She smiled with pouting lips, an attempted seduction that was now hopelessly wasted. "Please, take me, make love to me Michel. Please show me that you love me the way I love you, the way I need you."