The Best Idea Ever

This little teaser came to me as a random idea, but has since grown into my second novel, The Rebound List. 

The first real warning sign that our relationship was doomed was a few weeks prior to our fourth anniversary. During a chat with Sally – one of my closest friends – she speculated whether or not Jeff might propose to me.The thought filled me with dread. Don’t get me wrong, I didn’t hate him. I actually kind of still loved him but the idea that this was all that life had in store for me was incredibly depressing. There was more I had to do; more experiences I was yet to have.

Was he really planning to propose? I certainly hoped not because I couldn’t accept. No way. And I have always hated confrontations, so having to say ‘no’ was an extremely unpleasant prospect.

In a way, finding the inappropriate emails from him to his ex had been a relief. A chance to make a relatively clean break without having to confess uncomfortable truths. I moved out within a month and found myself free but also apprehensive about what might be in store for me next. Would I find what I had been missing?

I certainly wouldn’t make the same mistakes as in the past. Starting a new relationship on the rebound, not fully celebrating my new-found freedom were definite ‘no-no’s. I needed a plan to figure out when I would be ready to settle down. A means of measuring whether I had lived single life to the fullest. That’s how the list was born.

To Do:
Hook up with a stranger
Have a threesome (ideally mmf)
Do it in the office, outdoors and after getting completely sloshed
Have others watch
A silver fox
A virgin

Not Enough – III

Note: Please read 1 August 2006, Not Enough – I, Not Enough – II first to get the full story.

“History is written by the victors”
Sir Winston Churchill

3 August 2012. I wonder if I can will the situation in my favour by continuing to write about it. Perhaps this way, I can force a happy ending for us. Either way I’m going to try.

Today’s Friday and I’m very glad indeed. Soon we’ll have the weekend to ourselves. We’ve been working on an old motorcycle together, trying to change a few bits and pieces; seat, tail light, indicators… I’ve never done anything like it before, but it’s nice to be actually involved instead of watching others do similar things on the Discovery Channel.

The day passes, nothing much happens. Except the delivery of my brand new tail light. So I come home triumphantly carrying the light, excited to try and see what it will look like on the bike. He’s already home of course, his office is only 10 minutes away. As I come in, he gets up and walks towards me, muting the TV. The look on his face is hard to place, sort of uncertain, insecure.

“We did it today, lunchtime.” He looks worried now, waiting for me to react. It’s obvious what he means.

I don’t know what to say, I try looking at the floor, fighting back the tears. Damn it why do I cry so easily! Today?! I’ve hardly had time to think, to get used to the idea. I thought I had time…

“I’m sorry. You’re upset.” He hugs me, his arms enveloping me completely. I can’t move, so I just stand there, arms hanging down by my sides. “If it upsets you so much, we won’t do it you know.”

“What do you mean ‘we won’t’? You did or you didn’t?” I push him back, looking at him, eyes narrowed. This time it’s him avoiding my gaze, I don’t know what to make of this at all.


“I thought you didn’t want to know details… That maybe it would help if you weren’t sure.” This time he’s looking at the floor.

“Yeah but I didn’t want you telling me in a half-assed manner either! Now you started talking, you don’t get to be vague about it! Either you fucking did or didn’t, which is it?” I feel myself getting annoyed now. Why is he playing around? I try to calm myself down – deeply breathing in and out.

“We did… I can’t keep secrets from you.” His voice sounds small, scared. “Please don’t hate me.”

Well at least that takes care of the uncertainty I was feeling, over whether he’d go through with it. That ship has now sailed. He went through with it. Tears are properly streaming down my face now but I’m hardly making a sound.

“You told me about the 25th. And now you’ve done it already. I thought I had time to get used to the idea.” I pause and press my face against him, waiting for him to put his arms around me again.

I dry my face in his T-shirt and pick up the tail light. I need to distract myself from this mess. The motorcycle is parked in the garden; I quickly walk towards it with my new light. Held against the back of the seat, it looks exactly how I had hoped, I connect it up to test if it works. He’s watching me as I press the brake and flip the light switch a few times. It must be showing on my face that I’m pleased with the result because he comes over and holds me again.

“You’re happy with the new light? Good.”

I don’t know happy is the right word to describe my feelings right now, but yes the light is good. I nod.

“We share so much together, please don’t take this personally. You’ll always be the one I love.”

He still has his arm around me as we go back inside.

There’s a sealed envelope on the dining table with his name on it.

“What’s this?” I pick it up to show him.

“Her wedding invitation.” He opens it as we sit down on the sofa. Saturday the 10th of November, 7pm onwards. As I’m reading the card I can’t help but feel sorry for her fiance. He has no clue at all.

“I guess I’ll be going by myself,” he says.

“What?! I’m not invited? She gets to fuck you and I don’t even get free food in return? Unacceptable” My sense of humour is coming back, that’s something.

“Though I could see how it would be awkward to meet her and her hubby-to-be. ‘Hi I’m the wife of the one your wife is fucking’,” I continue.

He pulls me towards him and we both lie down on the sofa, me on top of him in his arms, my head resting on his chest. He starts telling me absentmindedly about something that happened on his drive home, some speed trap nearby, he comments she may have got a ticket.

“You brought her here?” I’m a bit shocked; after all he’d said himself he didn’t want to bring her into our house. Looking around the living room there are bike parts, dust everywhere. “It’s filthy in here!”

He can’t stop himself from laughing. “Silly cow, THAT’S your biggest worry? That the place is dirty?”

I realise it’s quite stupid but I can’t help myself. I promise myself that I’ll clean up properly this weekend.

“You’re going to laugh some more.. I’m writing a book.”

“What book?”

“About this. I thought it might be a good outlet. Since I can’t really talk to anyone about it.”

“You can talk to me!” He seems hurt. Men!

“Yeah I can talk to you, but that’s not how it works! Women tend to talk about emotional stuff to deal with things.”

“So why don’t you talk to your best friend about it?” Honestly? He really doesn’t get it.

“Well I can’t. Not until I’m OK with everything. It’s not an easy topic and I don’t want to get into a conversation about what I should and shouldn’t accept and how you’re a mean bastard who hurt me.”

“Fine ok, that makes sense. Well if you think writing will help.”

I didn’t want to tell him. But I just blurted it out. But I don’t think I’ll let him read it, ever.

“You fucked up my whole storyline. I had 25 days to write about until it would happen. And you went and did it already!”

My remark seems to have amused him. “Sorry…” he says sheepishly.

For a few minutes I’m lying in his arms quietly. Surely, he didn’t do it in the bed like he promised me he wouldn’t… I look around some more, lift my head to look at him.

“The sofa…?”

He nods.

It troubles me a bit, but I lie down again and close my eyes.

“I’m getting used to the idea. But I can’t promise it’s not going to come back to bother me again.” And I can’t promise I won’t bring it up in snide remarks during arguments either. I let out a deep sigh.

He strokes my back and I relax some more. Emotions sure are exhausting. I close my eyes and start drifting away.

Keep calm, all hope is lost. 

Not Enough – II

Note: Please read 1 August 2006 and Not Enough – I first to get the full story.

2 August 2012. Another day, a fresh start? I’m not sure I believe in that cliché but I do feel a little better today. At least I’ve had a good night’s sleep. My alarm hasn’t yet gone off but that’s only a matter of 5 minutes. Not too shabby considering I am currently reconsidering my entire life.

Of course he’s still asleep, looking at him makes me smile. Would I want to give this up? Not really. I like waking up next to him. To have someone I can cuddle with when I’ve had a bad dream. Someone who will make fun at me when I am being my stupid clumsy self; making me laugh when I’ve stubbed my toe hard on the coffee table leg. Again. He has an odd way of showing his love for me at the best of times but I know he’s sincere.

But I AM jealous. Why? I wish I was a stronger, more confident person. (I also wish I was 3 dress sizes slimmer, had bigger boobs and didn’t have two left feet, alas I can’t have everything!)

I turn towards him and half asleep he hugs me and I press my face into his bare chest. His scent is intoxicating, as it’s always been.  I hug him back and run my hand over his shoulders and back. Almost immediately he moves closer, pressing his hips against me. I can feel that he’s ready. He usually is in the morning. Nevermind, strike that last part. He usually is, the horny bastard. His eyes open slowly and he looks at me half sleepy half aroused.

“Morning” I kiss him softly and he responds by returning the kiss deeply and passionately. His tongue runs over my teeth, plays with the tip of mine and he pulls me closer into his embrace. A kiss like this can only mean one thing, he wants me. Or does he really? Does he want me or do I just happen to be convenient at this time?

We kiss some more as he runs his hand over my back, down to my ass.  He grabs a handful and squeezes it firmly. I quickly try to shake off my negative thoughts, I can do without the mindfuck right now! Let’s just focus on what’s in front of me. As he presses into me slowly but firmly I can feel he’s fully erect. He feels so good, his body moulded against mine, I want more. I guide his hand up over my hips and side to my breasts. He loves fondling them, playing with my nipples. In fact he can grope like an overeager teenager even now while in his thirties. It tickles like hell when I’m not in the mood. But right now, I’m loving it.

I run my hand in a circular motion over his ass cheek, down over the back of his thigh and around his hip until I’m caressing his cock slowly. His whole body shudders as I touch him there. He moans softly and presses his face into the side of my neck, kissing and softly sucking the skin  in that special spot where it is most sensitive. It gives me goose bumps every single time. I may not feel the same passion for him as in the beginning, but he certainly does not leave me cold either. Already, I am getting moist between my thighs.

“I love you,” he whispers in my ear, “don’t ever leave me…”

Oh he knows how to charm the pants off a woman, the player!

“Take me then, I’m all yours!” I moan.

I wiggle out of my panties as I turn onto my back. He quickly takes off his PJ bottoms, letting his fully erect cock spring forward, pointing right at me. It knows exactly where it wants to go! He gets on top of me, kissing me deeply again. I can feel my breathing changing, and he hasn’t even entered me yet. I grab his cock, it is rock hard in my hand as I squeeze my hand the way he likes it. Irresistible silky soft skin. He comes closer, so I can almost guide him inside me but holds back. He loves to tease. All I can manage is to brush his foreskin against my now dripping wet lips. Round and round a few times, it excites him as much as it does me. I want it in me so badly but he won’t let me have it yet. He loves to watch me squirm.

“Oh please, what are you waiting for?” I plead. He just looks at me and smiles wickedly. Nothing can wake him up as quickly as the prospect of sex.

“Why, what do you want?” Of course, he’s toying with me. That’s what he does. It’s what he enjoys.

“You, in me, now!” I breathe. I can hardly take it, he’s so close to me and yet it feels so far away.  He’s supposed to be all mine, and that bitch he’s been talking to can go to hell for all I care.

Finally he gives in, lowers himself down. He feels so big as he enters me that I can’t help but cry out.

“Ohhh yes!” I grab both his ass cheeks and pull him deep into me.

He complies and I can feel him filling me up completely. Any bigger and it would be painful, any smaller and I doubt I’d be satisfied.  The first few strokes are slow and gentle, but quickly he’s picking up pace. I am still holding on to him and pulling him into me all the way.  I look up at him and he looks gorgeous, his messy shoulder length hair frames his face and his eyes seem like they’re burning into my soul. He can certainly be difficult to read, doesn’t like to express his feelings, except during sex. Then he comes to life.

There’s a sparkle in his eyes as he looks at me. By now he’s moving faster, pounding me, encouraged by my fingers digging into his skin. He leans in for another deep kiss, this time it’s wilder, messier. But he doesn’t stop moving. I grind my hips upwards to meet his, finding my rhythm , getting ever wetter and more slippery. As I tighten myself, stimulating his full length inside me with every movement I can tell he’s getting closer to match my excitement. I moan with anticipation, grinding faster, tightening more.
“Oh baby, fuck me harder!”

I catch a glimpse of him still staring at me, a subtle smile on his face. My eyes close involuntarily and my neck arches backwards. He’s really picked up speed now, he’s fucking my brains out and I love it. I’m so close, it feels amazing. I contract and release my pelvic muscles again and again until I feel the warm tingling sensation of an orgasm envelop me completely.

“Ahhh! I’m yours, take me with all you’ve got!” By now I have very little control over my muscles, I try to keep up with his rhythm grinding my hips, but I miss a few beats as I’m trembling with the aftershocks of my orgasm. He’s slamming into me hard now, again and again and suddenly he freezes as his cock inside of me twitches violently and he releases. He’s fully tensed up and I’m still holding on to his hips, now I’m grinding against him with newfound energy, trying to make this moment last just a little bit longer.

As he catches his breath he’s still got a glimmer in his eyes “Waking me for sex? Hmmm?”

I feign innocence. “I’ve no idea what you’re talking about, I was sleeping…”

We’ve just got time for a quick shower each before rushing to work.

Sex on a working day morning isn’t all that common, though it does happen every other week or so. In fact I don’t feel our sex life is all that bad considering we’re not newlyweds anymore. We manage a few times a week mostly, but I guess it’s too much of the same old moves for him. I like the idea of being adventurous, but not the reality. And I rarely make the first move. I know he dislikes this about me, but before him I could happily go without sex for months. Or at all. This is a huge change from the old me and he knows it.

But I guess it’s not enough.

The day is not very memorable from then onwards. After work we cuddle up on the sofa and watch some TV. My mind is elsewhere though, mulling over everything that’s happening. I want him to be happy, and if that means letting go a bit and giving him more freedom, perhaps that’s the right thing to do… After all we did talk about this before, the rational part in me agrees with him.

“I’ve got a few rules,” I interrupt the TV, “Not in our bed. I don’t want to come home and have our bed smell of someone else.”

He nods.“Alright… I don’t think I’d want to bring her here anyway.”

“And you don’t make me feel secondary – ever.”

“I would never. ”

“You wear a condom. And you tell me immediately if it’s more than just sex…”

We’re both quiet for a few minutes. “Does she know that I know?”

“No, our relationship is none of her business,” he says.

I quietly start watching TV again. He puts his arm around me and caresses my hair as I lean it against his shoulder.

“Oh, The Fugitive is on, we haven’t seen that for a while..” His seemingly innocent remark makes me chuckle. They’ve been showing that film every day for a week now.

“You do know you’re the only one for me, right? Who else would put up with me watching the same shitty movies over and over… Who else do I talk to? Thanks for letting me be myself.” He whispers. I close my eyes and take a few deep breaths. Maybe it’ll work out this way.

While we get ready for bed, his phone buzzes a few more times.

“I said good night already, pesky woman!” He mutters under his breath.

Is the appeal waning already? 23 days to go…

Continue to Not Enough – III

Not Enough – I

Note: This really needs to be read after my previous blog entry 1 August 2006 which serves as a prologue to this true story.

It’s the 1st of August 2012, 25 days left until my husband is going to fuck another woman.

He’s asleep next to me but I am awake, confused. I can’t help but stare into the darkness, my eyes welling up again and again. It feels like I’ve been lying here like this for hours, my head is throbbing as I keep trying to swallow the urge to cry. And the stupid thing is I’m not sure why I’m so upset. I’ve always considered myself to be rational and open minded. I’ve never fully understood the limitations our society imposes on relationships, why one should be monogamous. Why not live for the day, enjoy life and follow your desires?

We’ve had this discussion a number of times, even before we became a couple we spoke about how couples with open relationships or open marriages have it all figured out. Only the lucky few manage to find a partner who is totally compatible in every way even sexually.  And whether or not the relationship survives this incompatibility depends on your priorities I suppose.

Until very recently I would’ve said we’re happily married. Of course we argue – viciously even. With the kind of rage that can only be ignited in people who have felt real passion for one another.  But I wouldn’t have thought this was odd in any way, after all we’ve been married nearly five years. And we’re both extremely stubborn people. Until recently I would’ve said we were content, used to each other’s strange habits, finding common ground often in our varied likes and dislikes. But he’s not content. We’re just not compatible in the bedroom.

The topic has come up so often I’ve lost count. He knew very well what he was getting himself into because I’d told him beforehand about my relationship with my ex. It resembled more of a platonic friendship towards the end. We hardly had sex, we had hardly experimented with anything, I was pretty inexperienced.

Then along comes this passionate man, who knows what he likes and takes it, often. He could probably go for days without food if he was given enough “distraction”. In the beginning of our relationship sparks would fly whenever we spent time together. Our hormones went absolutely wild and we could not keep our hands off each other. Over time this passion ebbed away, but only from my side. I have no doubt that he could still keep up the same level of lust. He wants things in the bedroom that I cannot provide. I can’t be ready and willing all the time. It’s not that I reject him every time he’s in the mood, but I guess he notices that I’m not as much into it as he is.

So when he told me two days ago, that he’s been texting with one of his colleagues – flirting – it wasn’t all that surprising. Apparently she has similar tastes, and she’s in a relationship of her own with a man who’s not all that into sex. Little things like that don’t tend to wind me up. I don’t care if he looks at other women, watches porn or chats to his ex online even. In fact the latter I find highly amusing, how could a former couple be any more different.

I trust him completely; he’s never given me a reason not to. But then he said “You know how you keep telling me I should find someone else to fill the gap in our sex lives… She’s home alone on the 25th…”. I kept quiet but my feelings were written on my face.

Now this early morning on the 1st of August, I feel lost and sad. I don’t quite understand what’s happening.

He’s right; I did tell him! I told him numerous times. Sometimes in anger when he’d get frustrated that I wasn’t receptive to his advances. Sometimes in despair when we’d calmly talk about his needs not being met. I didn’t think you’d actually DO it! I also said I wouldn’t want to know about it!

I should have known. He’s painfully honest; can’t keep a secret. He’s told me over and over that he wouldn’t lie to me or hide anything from me. He’s not like me at all, in comparison I feel like I’m full of secrets. I’m going to need time to digest this information.

It didn’t quite strike me until 3:30 am, when I woke up – eyes wide open . Shit, he’s actually going to go ahead with this!  I wipe my tears away with a corner of the duvet for the umpteenth time. Damn, I’m sure my eyelids will have ballooned up after all these tears. I try and soothe my eyes with the back of my hands, listening to his deep and regular breathing next to me. I settle back into my pillow and try to relax to make the thumping pain in my head go away. I’m exhausted and slowly drift away.

*Beep beep beep beep..*

My eyes open again, the alarm! Already! I look over and he’s still asleep, he has no idea I just spent hours crying over something that was basically my idea. I drag myself out of bed to get ready before it’s his turn. Today is going to be long and tiring, my headache is still here, and as I glance in the mirror – yes indeed. My eyelids are huge, reddish and my eyes are watery. I look quite pathetic indeed.

“Wake up sleepyhead!” He groans and turns away, eyes closed. “Come on wake up!”

I shake him a bit until he wakes. I quickly get off the bed again and walk off to continue getting ready.

“You’ve made my eyes puffy, I look hideous and it’s all your fault!” I shout while brushing my hair. I can hear him getting up and stretching; he walks over and looks at me.

“What’s wrong? You’ve been crying?”  I swallow hard and look at the floor. “You’re jealous!”

I can’t bear to look up, or the waterworks are bound to start again.

“I don’t know” I whisper. He hugs me tightly – unusual considering he can be the grumpiest person on earth in the morning. Not just that, he generally doesn’t tend to be overly affectionate at all.

“You know I only love you! It’s only sex… You were the one who told me!” His voice sounds soft, again unusual.

“I know I did, I’m not quite sure why I’m upset.”

“You are jealous, aren’t you! Look, I love only you. Before you, I didn’t believe in marriage, I never wanted to spend my life with anyone. You’ve changed me and I’m happier for it.”

“I know…” I can feel the tears coming back. He hates it when I cry but I really can’t help it.  “I just… I’m confused. There is just this conflict going on inside of me. I’ve been trying to think all morning. And I can’t quite put my finger on it yet.”

It’s true, I really still don’t quite understand. I truly believed I could be more mature about this. I love him and I want him to be happy. He likes sex, a lot. Why can’t I think of it as a hobby? But a lifetime of cultural brainwashing apparently can’t be undone because at the same time another voice in my head says: You deserve better! This is the beginning of the end.

“Nothing will change between us, I need you to know that! I will always want you.” He’s holding me again and I bury my face in his chest. Oh but it has already changed hasn’t it. I didn’t feel this sad before!

My drive to work that morning isn’t any better. In the car I’m more preoccupied with this inner struggle than paying attention to the traffic. Just another day at the office lies ahead. Luckily a lot of people are on holiday so there are not many around to scrutinise why my face is patchy and bloated today. I just get on with it and ignore my colleagues for the most part.

But I just can’t shake the heavy feeling in my chest, the lump in my throat that just tries to travel upwards with every breath; the burning sensation in my eyes which are about to flood again. I realise that I have felt this before. It reminds me of 6 years ago, when I decided to leave my ex. Even though I didn’t have feelings for him anymore, in fact I was extremely unhappy for the last year or so, I did feel an immense sadness, a sense of loss I guess. The crying had gone on for days and I was petrified of being alone. But I couldn’t be with him anymore either. After dragging out my decision for months, our breakup was final. We didn’t stay in touch.

Is this where we’re headed? Do I need to cry my eyes out now for days, weeks? Will this calm down the battle within me until the only voice left inside my head is the one telling me to walk away? It certainly would be easier to try and cut myself off from all emotions and shut the door on this part of my life. Five years is a good run. A lot of people don’t make it this far. But I’m not ready to be a soon-to-be 27 year old divorcee. I’m not ready to give up.

It’s 5 o’clock and I wonder whether I should go shopping in order to avoid home for as long as I can. In the end I decide against it, I’m exhausted and shopping wouldn’t cheer me up anyway.  As I reach home I try to avoid eye contact.

“Hi, how was your day?” I ask.

“Oh, same old. Some customer giving me grief.”

“Yeah me too.” I quickly walk to the kitchen to cook. At least I can hide in here for a while. I try to listen to the TV to distract me from my thoughts. I just don’t want to cry anymore.

Thank god for the TV. Until I sort out the mess in my head I have nothing to say anyway. His phone is buzzing on the table; he responds to the text. I try and ignore it as I quietly eat my dinner.

We go to bed at about 11, I’m exhausted from all the emotional turmoil inside me and as I drift away I think, 24 days to go…

Continue to Not Enough – II for more.