“I... I mean, yeah. But—I cannot lie to Amelia. I cannot use the excuse of an open marriage just so I can sleep with Simone.”
“If Amelia agrees to the open marriage agreement, I doubt she’d be snooping around to see if you had the hots for Simone before the arrangement. And don’t you think Amelia might want to experience something too? She’s been with you since college, right? You’re each other’s firsts?”
I nodded slowly.
“So maybe she’s curious too. Maybe she’d appreciate the freedom to explore a little. Then you both come back, you’ve gotten it out of your systems, and you appreciate each other even more. Your marriage gets stronger.”
The whiskey was making my head feel loose, my thoughts sliding into new patterns.
What if Oliver was right?
Six months was the perfect time for an experiment. Long enough to really experience things, short enough that it wouldn’t destroy what we have.
I loved Amelia more than I would ever love anyone. She was the perfect mother, the perfect wife. I would never trade the life I had with her for anything.
But what was wrong with a small experiment? Something that would make us appreciate each other even more when it was over?
And Paris. In Paris, of all places.
I thought about Simone again. Those red lips wrapping around something other than a coffee cup. Her breasts freed from that black bra. The sounds she might make when I…
Then I thought about Amelia. Sex with her was great—really, really good actually. She knew exactly what I liked, and after fifteen years together, we had a rhythm that worked.
But it was like... like having rocky road ice cream. Rocky road was my favorite flavor. I loved rocky road. But how long could someone eat the same ice cream flavor, even if it was their favorite? Didn’t people need variety?
I’d never experienced anything else. Not once in my entire adult life.
Maybe Amelia could find a date or two in Paris as well. If she couldn’t, I’d introduce her to some guys. Maybe I could ask them to take her out on a date. That way we’d both experience the city properly. She’d have some exciting encounters too. What was wrong with that?
It was practical. Modern. Mature.
Oliver was watching me, a knowing smile on his face. “You’re actually considering it.”
“Maybe.”
“Just talk to her. See what she says. Worst case, she says no and you spend six months being faithful and miserable while gorgeous Frenchwomen throw themselves at you.”
I laughed, but it sounded hollow.
We finished our drinks, and Oliver left, but I stayed for one more. I pulled out my phone and opened the voice memo app.
I needed to practice this. I needed to get the pitch right.
“Amelia, sweetheart,” I started, then stopped. Deleted it.
“Babe, I’ve been thinking about our relationship and how we can make it stronger...”
Delete.
“Listen, I love you more than anything, but I think we should talk about something that might sound crazy at first but actually makes a lot of sense...”
I kept recording, deleting, re-recording. I tested different approaches, different justifications. Nothing sounded right enough for Amelia to accept.
Maintaining our connection while having personal freedom?Sounds too professional.
Not wanting resentment to build up during six months apart?Sounds too frustrated.
Strengthening our foundation by exploring our curiosities in a safe, boundaried way?Sounds like I’m trying too hard.
