Negotiations

And there it was, the surprise move from my husband I never saw coming.
“I sometimes think you should just have an affair.”
Of all the things he has said and done to bind me, this is the one that took my breath. I had been freezing cold when I woke after several hours sleep on Sunday morning. He was coming down the hall to bed, book in hand, when I met him. Through chattering teeth I asked him if it was cold in the house, a stupid question I know, but we are not often of the same mind on the subject. He looked at the thermostat and said,
“Well, let’s turn the heat on.” I can’t imagine how cold it actually was if he was making that concession, and I also realized the big old barn we lived in was going to take a while to respond to his tweaking. I followed him down the hall to the bedroom and crawled in beside him to warm up for a minute. He had been trout fishing all day with his best friend and was exhausted from the climbing on banks and over downed trees to keep up with his chum, and he immediately started making excuses about his energy level. I told him quickly that I just wanted to get warm and he gratefully gathered me in his arms, although the idea that anyone else can be cold when he is comfortable always seems to surprise him. We talk about nothing for a few minutes and I gradually begin to stop shaking. I know it’s not fair, but I realize this may be the best moment to talk about our issues, here in the bed we have shared, the scene of the crime as it were. I let the conversation drift gradually past the mundane into the danger zone. I tell him again about freedom, excitement, control, all the things I need. I have been dry eyed through our conversations for many months, but unexpectedly I hear tears choke my voice and my words hit the ground like a grenade.
“I don’t know why I was never enough for you. Why did you choose the alcohol over me for all these years?” He says nothing for a long time but holds me closely while I sob. That’s when the words roll off his tongue, “affair”. I’m not sure I’m hearing correctly. I try to think what I want to say, what he wants to hear. He continues.
“I know your sex drive has always been much stronger than mine. If that’s what you need I understand.” I dance around it, admitting nothing as he reminds me of a friend from some years ago who took a lover while she cared for a compromised husband. The whole thing turned into a melodrama because of her poor judgment. It was not her most shinning moment. He warns me,
“I assume you know it would have to be extremely discrete and that I don’t want to know anything.” It lies there on the table for a while, and finally my voice says,
“I’ll take it under advisement.”