The original is so bad, so full of male entitlement and a complete lack of actual love for his (now-ex thank god) wife, that I couldn’t finish it. This is much better.
Holy shit that original. What a self-absorbed narcissistic douche! I want to read his wife’s story of how her ex was inexplicably surprised that she wanted a divorce after he cheated on her while they were having infertility treatments.
“I think we should try an open relationship.” I can’t quite believe the words are tumbling from my mouth. Within the paradigm of the dominant culture, the sanctity of monogamous marriage is supreme.
And yet I feel compelled to reconcile the deeper longings of my desire, haunted by the alternative: the vision of a pleasant but passionless coupledom, like so many marriages that choose the facade of stability instead of the fire of truth.
A few hours before, she had revealed how she had begun drifting from our marriage the first time I’d confessed about kissing the other women, almost a year earlier. “You never told me,” I pleaded. “How could I have saved us?”
I believed wholeheartedly the myth of the One. The belief that human happiness means finding your other half, pledging them your heart and soul, and committing until death do you part.