Through my tears I laughed, “My marriage vows mentioned nothing about a ménage a trois. Just because I’m a blonde-duh, doesn’t mean I would ever consider compromising my virtues. In fact, I will not be treated like a doormat for scuffing off your dirty deeds!” Determined that our marriage would not be cast into a sea of oblivion without a fight, I sharpened my hooks to bait the seductress that lured my lover’s heart.
Overboard with jealousy, I secretly followed him to his weekend rendezvous. Waves of nausea bilged in my throat when I spied her in the distance. Disguised in shades of blue, she sat idly as clouds shadowed her imperfections. Although she was a bit portly, her beauty was beguiling. Pampered and polished to distinction, she was definitely the high maintenance type. I wondered, “Was my husband her only Sugar Daddy?”
With a spring in his step, he greeted her with warm salutations. His eyes danced in her presence as she fell softly into his embrace. Subservient to his gentle touch, she responded with an eagerness that made him smile. Maneuvered by his manly hands, it became obvious that my husband of thirty years held the key to her internal combustion for another night of romantic bliss.
While fishing for answers I reeled myself into accepting the tranquil temptress. How could I ignore the swell of happiness she bestowed upon my husband’s mid-life mania? Rather than drown myself in a sea of sorrow, I joined my husband at her helm. In the ever-changing tide of marriage, I have discovered what floats his boat, although I question if my mate will ever fathom what rocks mine.
