“Sixteen years together, three children, a range of social obligations, a few kilos too heavy, no more tension in bed and in any case more need for sleep than wild sex. Was it a pre-midlife crisis? No idea. It did pinch and chafe my life two years ago. On the one hand all-jesus busy, on the other hand terribly boring. Something had to pull me out of the rut. A lover, I thought. A mega-bad plan in retrospect, for many reasons, but the most important: it certainly doesn’t make it any easier.
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‘They’re in line for you’
I always say, “It’s easier to have a good lover than a bricklayer.” For real. Certainly if as a woman you still look a bit appetizing and explicitly state that you are only out for sex, then they will be standing in line for you. After my belief that cheating would be the solution, Matthieu was quickly found, just on Tinder. Also ‘happily married’, also three children and a busy social life. We met in a bar, felt a physical click and after the second glass of wine we were talking vulgar. It was the beginning of four months of secret dates in shady hotels and sex in the backseat of his Mercedes. I made up the sweetest excuses to get away from home and more than once enlisted my mother to get the kids out of school so I could meet Matthieu.
No success sex: ‘The thought of having a threesome suddenly seemed so repugnant to me’>
The sex was worldly. We did tricks that I had never done before and it turned out that I could have multiple orgasms in a row. Yet. My ever-present guilt made everything a lot less hosanna than it sounds now. Especially when I drove home and thought about my family. Then I became acutely sorry. I was especially sorry for my husband Rob, type Joris Goedbloed, who worked very hard for us and loved me. Worried about my flushed flushes from my multi-orgasms (“You don’t have a fever, do you?”) And let me sleep in at the weekend because I looked so tired. The more concerned he was, the more underhanded and selfish I found myself. What did I do to my children’s father? Okay, Rob wasn’t Matthieu in bed, but he did his best.
When Matthieu texted me one evening and I managed to delete the spicy message just in time, I realized how I played with fire. If Rob knew I was cheating, it would break his heart. I had to end my affair before I destroyed everything that was beautiful. And how bad was grind now at all? The next day I broke up. Fortunately, Rob didn’t notice anything. At least, he never said anything about it and is still just as affectionate. I myself have more problems with it. I am extra nice to Rob, cook his favorite foods, even watch his sports programs and tell more often than before how much I love him. Actually, I have been engaged in a kind of penance for a year and a half to buy off my guilt. ”
This story has previously appeared in Kek Mama.
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