5 WEIRD SIDE-EFFECTS OF OPENING YOUR MARRIAGE

My previous two posts were a little negative in places, and I don’t want to give out the impression that this has all been difficult and I’m wallowing in misery all the time. Plus, we’ve noticed that the blog is starting to get some attention from people, and that’s exciting to us, so we want to try and drive more traffic here. Solution to both problems: time for a blatant Buzzfeed style click-bait post. Thus…

5 WEIRD SIDE-EFFECTS OF OPENING YOUR MARRIAGE

1)   Drive for self-improvement

Look, let’s be real for a second here, married guys. I know the joke is that, once the wedding rings go on, the couple starts to let themselves slip more and more. That extra couple of (dozen) pounds creep onto your gut. You’re content to come home and give the wife the perfunctory peck on the cheek and chat about the day’s events. You stop growing and pushing yourself as a person. You get comfortable, and that is a bad, bad thing.

So now imagine if some of that comfort gets shaken up. Not that having an open marriage means that now you’re constantly fighting to keep your relationship together, mind you. But, now you have to convince OTHER people to like you who don’t have a legally binding piece of paper entitling them to half your stuff if it doesn’t work out.

Basically, you’ve got to start working on yourself again, and the thing is, you’ll actually WANT to do it. Suddenly you look down at that beer gut and realize it’s time to get back in the gym. And you’ll be doing it because you want to, with a pretty big carrot dangled in front of your nose that works a heck of a lot better than some abstract goal like “losing weight” or “getting in better shape.” Plus, you need to keep yourself interesting as well. Too frequently in my marriage it started to feel like we were in a rut of routine. "How was your day" could be answered with "Eh, same as usual" and you're so comfortable with each other that you can shrug and move past that conversation killer. I have news for you: that won't fly with a new date. You’ve got to relearn how to be dynamic in a conversation and relate to other people that you don't know that well. All that old “game” you used to have back in the day? You need to go find that again, dust off the old rap, and get back to being able to relate to people you meet if you ever want to do more than just chat idly online. And, just so that doesn't seem like a burden, realize that this is a skill that helps in your daily life as well. Unless you work in a dark basement with no human contact, interpersonal communication is probably useful in your job.

For example, at one point in the middle of all of this I started to improve my wardrobe. There’s no uniform at my workplace. People can wear whatever they feel like as long as A) it qualifies as clothing and B) it passes lab safety regulations. As such, most of my career I’ve gone to work in jeans, t-shirts, and possibly an over-shirt. If I wanted to look professional, throw on a polo. Lots of people, especially the grad students, come to work looking like they just rolled out of bed or came straight from the gym, and its no big deal. For most of my coworkers, this is considered one of the real perks of the job, and I enjoyed it as well for a time. However, it started to feel…not right as I got older. I remember that about the same time I started watching Mad Men and seeing how men used to dress for work, and part of me kind of missed when we used to care about dressing like professionals.

Pictured: the goal. Minus the philandering and alcoholism, of course.

And somewhere, in the middle of working on myself to get ready for being an open marriage participant, I decided to start dressing up at work and in daily life. Not full suits, mostly because I don’t have many of them and suit coats don’t really work under a labcoat, but shirt, slacks, and tie pretty much every day. I learned how to do a better tie-knot (the classic half-windsor.) I started wearing a shot of cologne every day. It wasn’t necessary or even all that practical (imagine going to work with people who’ve never seen you in anything besides casual clothes for two years,) but it felt good to work on myself in that way. And, it made me feel more confident when dealing with potential dating partners as well. Would I have ever tried this without that self-improving drive? I'm really not sure. The timing seems awfully coincidental for it not to be related.

Now, I’m not saying you all need to go dressing up for work every day anymore than I’m saying the other people in my lab need to do it. But the point is, I feel better about MYSELF because I’m doing it. Which, of course, can lead to…

2)   General boost in self-confidence.

God I hope none of the Google searches for these pictures is going in a file somewhere.

I’m probably the last person in the world to talk about self-esteem, because I’m one of these people who, despite any evidence to the contrary, is convinced that he’s fooled the world into thinking he’s smart, attractive, and capable and, one of these days, they’re all going to figure it out and the game will be over. So I can’t speak for any personal increase in feelings of self-confidence. But, as my wife put it when I was feeling not great about my first date, one of the things she had liked about this experience was seeing me walk a little taller with some extra pep in my step. It just feels good to be desired, and it’s easy to lose that feeling from a long-term partner over time. Its not their fault, of course. The confidence effect of being desired by someone must work like drugs: the more you have it, the less effect it has on you. But when you can start to see your positive characteristics through a new person's eyes, that feeling can come back just as strong if not stronger.

And it can have a positive effect on your relationships, as well. When you’re feeling better about yourself it starts to be reflected back at you from other people. I’m not a person that gets “checked out” in my daily life, but I started to see one or two women’s eyes lingering that extra second longer than necessary when I was out and about. When I went into a bank or a store, the people responded differently. I started to see a lot of the things I loved about my wife with fresher eyes. I even saw another coworker start dressing up a week or so after I did, so apparently somebody else must have thought it was a good idea.

Of course, I emphasize the term “general” boost of confidence, because reentering the dating pool can be fairly fraught with peril for your self esteem as well. Nothing will pop your little bubble quite like getting flat-out shut down in an online conversation with someone to whom you’re really attracted. But when you hear people telling you that they “liked” your profile on a dating website just because your picture was “cute,” or you start to receive messages from users who are very obviously hitting on you (more my wife’s experience with things than mine, but still) how can you not start to feel a little bit better about yourself?

3)   TV starts to feel stupid

Ok, so this is a weird digression but it is something I noticed recently (and this is about weird side-effects after all.) First of all, our DVR has started to get further and further backed up and those old "appointment TV" programs are becoming less and less important, for reasons that will come up later. But, the actual content of the shows starts to look different once nonmonogamy is a part of your mindset.

The wife and I used to watch Scandal in the first couple of seasons (before it quit being about Kerri Washington’s role as a political fixer and started to be about super-secret CIA agents and political intrigue.) The show does have a strong central thesis it has stuck to throughout: the President’s illicit relationship with Ms. Washington’s character while married to an ice queen First Lady. It’s a constant source of drama, which is of course turned up to 11 in every episode because Shonda Rhymes has never heard of subtlety. Eventually we tapped out and moved on to more believable dramas like The Walking Dead and Game of Thrones.

More believable than Shondaland. You heard me.

Since we opened up, however, I saw a commercial for that show and realized that A) I could probably just pick it up again at any point and it wouldn’t feel like I’d missed anything and B) the main plot of this show seems really stupid now. The President has parts of himself that are made better by both of the women in his life. They make him a better political figure. They make him happy. The three of them are a hell of a team when they work together, frankly, and the women don’t even really have a reason to dislike each other besides the whole “he’s married to this woman but sleeping with that woman” thing. So imagine if one day they just went into a poly relationship. Problem solved, series over. Well, besides the whole CIA trying to take over the country thing. 

And when I had this thought, I suddenly realized how often this would blow up the plot of other shows I’ve watched. Love triangle on your sitcom? Convert it into a triad and problem solved. Barry Allen has a girlfriend but knows that he’s also attracted to a woman he’s supposed to be married to in the future? He’s the Flash! He can be on a date with both of them at once if wanted to, and as long as everybody knows about it, who cares? Abraham wants to be with Sasha but is already sleeping with Rosita? It’s the zombie apocalypse! Polyamory should be seriously considered, if for reproductive purposes only!

Seriously, look into it. I could find an example in almost every show on TV. Enough digressing, though. Back to serious relationship stuff.

4)   It gives you a chance to broaden your horizons

You’re only two people, with two people’s life experiences. You have two people’s hobbies. You have two people’s memories, places you’ve travelled, and experiences. You can spend every day of your lives learning something new about each other, but it’s still the same 4 eyes looking at the world every day in your relationship. No matter how interesting and open a couple you are, the paradigm will still only be so big. So imagine throwing in another person or 6 to the mix, and imagine how much richer your life could become. Every couple has that thing she likes to do that he doesn’t, and vice-versa. Now imagine you could add in a partner who did like to do those things with you. While you and a new lover are at home watching football together, your wife and her new partner could go shopping together. Or, you know, vice versa (phew, dodged that sexism just in time.) Or, better yet, imagine you meet someone who introduces you to something new that you and your partner had never considered trying, and you both find out you love it! How awesome would that be?

Without Polyamory, Jim would never have discovered his passion for extreme ironing.

5)   More and better sex with your partner.

Ok, that might be a bit much, but you get the idea.

I mean, really, sex is part of why we do this, right? Finding new people to be with is an undeniable perk of open marriage. But I’ll bet you didn’t consider that it could end up having a positive effect on your bedroom life at home as well. I first heard of this idea on Cooper S. Beckett’s My Life on the Swingset audio books. When he and his wife were in the early stages of swinging, before they’d actually had sex with anybody yet, they suddenly couldn’t keep their hands off of each other. The reproductive proclivities of rabbits were used as a comparison, if I remember correctly. I wondered if that would be a general sort of phenomenon that the wife and I would experience as well, and damned if it didn’t end up kicking in about a week or so before my first date. I mentioned in my first post that we’d hit kind of a dry spell after the birth of our youngest which had started to get better once we talked about opening up. Well, once it was about to become a reality, that dry spell turned into an ocean in a hurry. Bed time for the kids changed from "well let's see what we're going to watch tonight" to "Ok, how long do we need to wait until we're sure they're asleep." We’re talking marathon sessions, nine days in a row, to the point that we both just collapsed at the end and couldn’t move.

I didn’t know if it was a result of being excited for this new adventure, feeling attractive because of the reasons discussed above, the phase of the moon, or some combination, but I wasn’t going to question it. As the wife put it “It’s like we were a new couple again.” And, in a way, I suppose we were. It’s tough not to see your partner differently after you’ve had the hard conversations and made the decision to open things up. If nothing else, I don’t know that any conversation between the two of you could ever be harder than one saying “I’d like to be able to sleep with other people.” Your relationship has changed pretty radically at the point the other partner agrees, so why wouldn’t you expect a certain degree of New Relationship Energy (NRE in the nonmonogamy terminology) to result from this redefinition of who you are as a couple? Add to that the fact that, suddenly, you have new people that are interested in and attracted to you, and is it any wonder you suddenly find this new surge of sexual energy? Seems logical to me, at least. I would welcome any of our readers who have gone through this process to comment, as I’m honestly curious to see how common this really is or if it’s just two instances of anecdotal evidence.

And to throw another curve your way, consider this last point. Every partner you’re with teaches you something new in bed, potentially. So imagine if you could go out, learn that new stuff, and then bring it home to your partner to share it with them. Sounds pretty good, right? We haven’t really had a chance to experience this yet per say, but part of the sudden revitalization of our sex life was an openness to experimenting with kink, and it just so happened that Rose, the woman I was seeing on that first date, has been in BDSM for several years at this point and is very knowledgeable. I think you can see where this is going. Now, I wouldn’t recommend trying this particular application with just any new relationship, particularly one that hasn't gone past the first date. I would imagine that most folks would just as soon not know the details of what you get up to with a metamour (partner of your partner with whom you aren’t romantically involved. Jargon is fun!) Rose is pretty unique (and awesome) in how sex positive she is for everyone in her life, and it helps that she and her husband have been in an open relationship for some time as well and have already been through a lot of the road bumps and hurdles along the way, so they've got jealousy under control more or less. But really, I bring it up because my wife and I are still new at this and it's already had a positive effect. Imagine what could be possible in the future for us, and for you as well. If you and all your partners are all open and good communicators, the possibilities are, frankly, endless.  

...endless...

Oh right, dating's weird and I'm bad at it

So, dating. Specifically first dates. That’s a thing that happens. Should be the simplest thing in the world, really. Go out with a person who has expressed an interest in you and in whom you’ve also felt an interest. Eat something (probably.) Talk to each other (more than likely.) Get an idea of who this person you’re with is, and whether you want to get back together some time in the future for more of the same. Simple, clean, easy. Shouldn’t be anything to worry about, right?

Well, you’d think so.

(Fair warning up front, this is one of those “just spill the guts onto the page and hope it's not too embarrassing later” type posts.)

This one was kind of starting off running uphill anyway, for reasons She explained here. Magoo had blundered again, only this time his light-hearted myopic antics had managed to hurt his wife in the process. Not a lot, mind you, and not enough that we couldn’t talk to each other about it and patch things up later. But still, for someone who had a handful of reservations to begin with and now realized he had managed to cross a line without even having gone on a date yet...not a great start. And then of course there’s the fact that I’m a complete knob when I’m nervous. In the Thomas Harris world, Hannibal Lecter is described as wearing “an immaculately tailored person suit.” I’m not a serial killer (as far as you’re concerned,) but sometimes I feel that way when I’m in a social engagement. The only difference is that Hannibal’s suit is to cover up the homicidal maniac/inhuman monster/possibly the devil that is hiding underneath his skin, and mine is to cover up how painfully introverted I am. I am the embodiment of the metaphorical “duck-on-water,” gliding along through the conversation free and easy with no hint of the frantic kicking that’s going on beneath the surface just to keep the whole thing afloat. Often, when I get done with one of these soirees, I come home so exhausted that I can barely muster the effort to put complete sentences together. So I knew ahead of time that this was going to take some effort on my part.

"Rose," as we're calling her here, makes this part much easier. Part of what had been interesting with her was simply how easily we clicked with each other once we started chatting online. Normally when I meet someone through online dating, I try to say something about their interests in the opening message. With Rose I tried something different, starting out flirty and going from there. To my shock, this had actually been successful rather than receiving the non-response that most messages earn. It helped that she was genuinely interesting and interested in me, which always makes things move smoother. After only a couple of days, I was shocked to see that our number of messages back and forth had climbed into triple digits. It seemed stupid not to ask to meet up somewhere in person at that point, but I did ask my wife first rather than cut her out of the loop. Once things got the green light, I contacted Rose and the date was set: dinner at a restaurant close to her town (she lives about an hour away.)

So we had some conversational chemistry, but for an anxious fellow like me you can imagine what a first date is like. You’re trying to be engaged with every word they say. You’re trying to not let your attention drift to the colorful chalkboard of local microbrews printed on the wall or the TV with the football game in the corner. You haven’t mastered the rhythm of conversation with this new person, so you step on each other’s sentences and interject in the middle of a story because you thought they were done speaking. And, of course, you’re trying to put your best foot forward the whole time so maybe this person will want to see you again (and maybe see more OF you at some point in the future.) It’s sort of like a three-hour long job interview, really, where you don't know the job requirements beforehand and no one validates your parking at the end.

Ok, I’m getting negative. If it was that bad, no one would date. I went into this looking for interesting people, and everything beyond that point was a bonus. And “Rose” is definitely interesting. It also sounds like I had a bad time. I didn’t. The conversation flowed pretty freely between us despite how I'm making it sound. We talked about our jobs, our families, what it's like for her to manage her own BDSM dungeon out of her living room.

You know, first date stuff.

She and I chatted for about 3 hours without my even really noticing the passing of time. That kind of ended up being the other problem, as I was supposed to be checking in with my wife via text during the date. That's something we learned from a meeting of a local poly group. It really does help your partner to know that, while you're out having fun without them, at least you're still thinking about them. I was picking up the phone to do so as I was in the car waiting for the date to begin, but looked up as Rose was pulling into the spot next to me and forgot. The next time I took the phone out, the damn battery had died and I had to borrow a charger to hurriedly send a message apologizing for being such an absent-minded dick. Which, of course, added another sour note to the evening.

And then, of course, there was the end of the date. Christ. If you’ve seen an awkward teen romantic comedy you can probably figure out where this is going to end up. “Hey, I had a good time tonight.” “So did I! Thanks for coming out with me!” She reaches for a hug aaaand….like an asshole I go for the awkward kiss.

Yeah, kinda like that.

Now, I don’t think it was awkward because she wasn’t into it. Or, fuck, at least I hope not. I think I just caught her flat footed. This maybe shouldn't have come as a surprise since, as my wife put it to me later, “That’s sort of your move, isn’t it?” Very helpful, but not entirely wrong.

Anyway, mortified, I jumped in the car to drive home after a vague "We should do something again soon," giving the wife a call to make sure she  knew I wasn’t A) Dead in a ditch or B) Heading to Rose’s dungeon. I can hear that I screwed up in her "Yeah, I was starting to get a little worried" response, and I feel like a jerk. I have to pee all of a sudden, and have to stop in a gas station to do so. I take the wrong exit to head home. I do everything else that I can wrong, because I’m an idiot and everything is bad and ohgodohgodwhydidIeverdothis?

Just kill me now.

*deep breath* Ok, got that out. I feel better now.

Really, I swear the date wasn’t that bad. It’s just a matter of my not having been on one in several years and not being terribly good at them even before the hiatus. Rose and I had a good time. The problem is that, as a generally anxious person anyways, the one thing that goes wrong will always color the rest of the experience for me. I went on a fun vacation to San Francisco several years ago when my wife and I were first dating, and I don’t like San Francisco to this day because of a fight my Dad and I had one night while we were there. One argument, and a whole vacation through wine country and one of the coolest cities in the world turns sour. Likewise, if a date ends on an awkward note, the whole experience subsequently feels weird to me and I spend the rest of the car ride home convincing myself I'll never hear from Rose again and maybe, just maybe, this whole open marriage thing was a really terrible idea in the first place. 

I know, I know. Chill out Spaz.

I was more or less laying this out to Her on the porch an hour or so later after I got home, feeling generally like crap, when my text alert went off. Rose had sent me a message to say that she had a nice time. Going by the policy “If you’re afraid to say something to someone in a relationship, you need to say it now,” I went ahead and apologized for the awkward kiss. Rose said I was fine, and not to worry about it. I wasn’t sure if she was just being nice, but the next day I got another message spontaneously from her to start up another chat, and I finally let myself believe it was really ok. I was being too hard on myself, as usual, and we really were going to try and meet up sometime in the future to do something again. Maybe even a double date with our spouses.

I’ve struggled with what to write about this since then. Is there a lesson here? Sure, don’t be such a spastic jerk, but does that help anybody besides me? I guess a lifetime of sitcoms have taught me that I can't be the only one who locks up on a first date, so I decided to just go ahead and put it out there, despite the embarrassment. So, give yourself a break, new-and-old poly people. If someone meets you for a date its probably because they want to be there with you, and you’re not going to blow it in one weird moment. Also, I need to remember to charge my damn phone and, at the very least, text my wife at the start of any future dates. So maybe, overall, the thing to keep in mind is that there’s something to be said for knowing your own failings and making plans ahead of time to compensate for them. Maybe that’d be a good thing for me to keep in mind for the whole process, come to think of it.

WELCOME! YOU’VE GOT INSECURITIES!

Tonight, my husband will be going on his first date. He is going alone. I will be home with the kids. This isn’t a huge surprise. I knew this was coming up. What I didn’t expect was the feeling of anxiety that would wash over me, seemingly out of the blue, and throw every ounce of self-confidence I have out the window. The internal mantra of you’renotgoodenoughyou’renotgoodenough that ran through my head was something I could not have predicted. Yet, there it was.

I should back up a bit. A few weeks ago, while we were lying in bed, my husband mentioned to me that he had created a profile on a dating website. I knew he had signed up on a swinger site previously, in order to find a couple that we might like and want to get to know. I was completely on board for that. When we first discussed opening our marriage, he had made it clear that he thought he would be okay with it as long as we moved forward as a couple. A threesome with another woman or another couple that we could “play” with sounded fun and exciting to him. He wasn’t keen on the idea of me going off on my own, not at first, and certainly not with another man. Since I was the one that initiated the discussion in the first place, since I was the one who wanted to explore, I agreed. If this was going to work, it was going to have to move at the more hesitant person’s pace. I absolutely accepted that. I was in no hurry to dive right in and start finding partners. If he needed to move more slowly than me, that was fine. I would not take the next step until he was 100% comfortable and ready for it.

Wait for it…wait for it…

The initial discussion started a few months ago. In the time that’s passed, there has been a lot of talking, a lot of honest communication about opening up our marriage. We’ve talked about the things we are excited about trying, the things that worry us, where things could go wrong and where they could go right. I’ve sort of sat back and let him explore websites on his own, finding what interests him, and he reports back things he’s found to me. So far, it has all seemed to be things we would do as a couple. So I was a little shocked (and if I’m being honest, hurt) to learn he had created a solo profile on a dating website. I didn’t worry about it too much though, and that night I created my own profile on the same site.

Within a couple of days, we checked back in with each other about our online experiences. I lamented at the overwhelming amount of messages I had received, with none of them being anything I was interested in. The online dating game is a vastly different experience for women than it is for men. He had a gotten a few messages over the two days he’d been active. In the first 12 hours, I had received over forty. It’s almost as if men (and I’m generalizing, I know) think that a woman who is in an open relationship is only interested in finding someone, meeting them that day, and sleeping with them. That couldn’t be further from the truth. But I digress. 

So, as we were talking about the people that had contacted us individually, he mentioned that there was a woman who was in an open marriage that he had hit it off with. They seemed to have a lot in common and they were having some enjoyable conversations online. I was genuinely happy for him. I know he has had some self-esteem problems in the past, and still does, so the fact that he’d met someone that is interested in him is great. It was nice to see a little pep in his step, how he came home from work with a smile on his face and his head held a little higher. He told me that they were thinking about trying to get together and meet soon, maybe for coffee or something, and I was okay with that. I was supportive and excited for him. A couple of days later, he came home from work and offhandedly commented that he and Rose (not her real name) were up to 131 messages exchanged. The next day, he informed me that they would be going to dinner the following Friday night.

My initial reaction…

“Oh, okay. Cool.” That was what I said. What I thought was, “Um…okay. Cool?” but I didn’t think any more about it. I had kids and work to keep my mind occupied. The Monday before his date, though, I found myself at work, suddenly feeling…I don’t know. My stomach was upset. I thought maybe I had eaten something that didn’t agree with me. I was working on a particularly tedious task, earbuds in with Gin Wigmore and ZZ Ward and Ivy Levan coating my eardrums. I couldn’t get that feeling to go away, though, no matter what I did. I began thinking about the upcoming date, and my stomach got worse. It’s hard to describe, that deep feeling of dread. There’s a tightness in your chest and your stomach feels full of ice and fire and knives all at the same time. It would go away whenever I had to get up and talk to someone, but as soon as I was back at my desk with only my music, my stack of work, and my own brain, it started up again immediately.

This is Bob. He lives in my stomach. Say “Hi,” Bob!

It dawned on me that I was feeling anxious about his upcoming date. Not just a little nervous – I was in full-blown anxiety mode. I couldn’t focus, I felt sick, I was a little clammy. I have a Xanax prescription that’s well over 4 years old and sitting in the bottom of my underwear drawer. I haven’t taken one in years, but that day when I got home, I made a beeline for that bottle and washed one down as quickly as I could. I don’t know why, after all of the time we’d spent talking and visualizing and planning, hesitation hit. No, not hesitation. Let’s call a spade a spade, shall we? It was jealousy. I was jealous. I was scared and threatened and feeling shitty about all of it. I didn’t want to bring it up to him, though. I was afraid it would scare him off, cause him to call the date off, and I didn’t want to do that. I know he was excited to meet this woman he’s had such a wonderful time talking to, and I didn’t think it would be fair for me to put my feelings before his. Especially because, let’s face it, this was my idea in the first place, right? I can’t drag him along and then suddenly put the brakes on. That’s kind of a dick move. And as that great sage Wil Wheaton says…

My personal life philosophy.

I did do some things right in this situation, however. I remembered from my reading and from a local poly group that put on a “Poly 101” course we attended, that when feelings of jealousy arise, you have to really examine them. Instead of pushing them away and ignoring them, turn around and stare them right in the face. Look at why you’re feeling jealous. Where is it coming from? Where is it rooted? I began to jot down thoughts as they came to me. It wasn’t anything structured or coherent. Hell, even my handwriting was sloppy and frantic. But as thoughts and realizations, or even hints of realizations, came across my mind, I pulled out a piece of paper, wrote it down, and then went back to the task at hand. The writhing snake pit that was my stomach didn’t subside, but my mind slowed down from a neck-breaking pace to safely speeding along.

We could survive a crash at this speed, right?

So that night, when he got home from work, I casually said, “I’ve had quite a bit of anxiety today about Friday. We’ll talk about it tonight.” He just said okay and called the kids down to dinner. It was a normal Monday night. He did the dishes; I gave the baby a bath. The kids went to bed, we watched a little TV, and headed upstairs to bed. While brushing our teeth, I told him about how I was really upset, to the point of needing to take a Xanax. I told him how it had really taken me by surprise. Up until this point, I had been really pleased with how open and willing he was to try and his growing enthusiasm had allayed a lot of the lingering fears and uncertainty I was still feeling over this new endeavor.

I expressed how I felt he was moving forward without me. I was under the impression that this was something that we were going to do together, that we would have a discussion prior to making any changes or taking any steps forward. His creating a dating profile by himself felt like a violation of that agreement. I thought we’d be looking to explore together, and he created a solo profile without talking to me about it beforehand. His conversations with a woman he just met were so fascinating that within a mere couple of days, he was unable to focus at work because of the constant communication. His “maybe” meeting for coffee suddenly became we’re definitely going to dinner. I felt like he was dashing ahead and I was struggling to keep up. How did he go from being so cautious and hesitant to eagerly diving in without telling me? To be honest, my feelings were hurt a little. No, that’s a lie. My feelings were hurt a lot.

I told him how his upcoming date had brought up feelings about myself that I didn’t think I had, insecurities that I never knew existed. I’ve always been a fairly confident person. I’ve usually had a good sense of self, and a good grip on my emotions. Now, at the age of 34, I feel more secure in who I am as a person than I ever have at any point in my life. I recognize my flaws, I know my weaknesses, but I also know my strengths and what makes me a self-assured person. Or so I thought.

See, the problem wasn’t his date. The problem is that my husband thinks I’m amazing. (Hang in here with me, I’ve got a point I’m getting to.) He knows I’m not perfect, and he knows what my flaws are. In spite of these he still thinks I’m the most wonderful, awesome person in the world. Given his limited experience, I jokingly refer to his high opinion of me as being the valedictorian of summer school. His first wife was a needy, belittling, and (sorry, honey) crazy bitch who put him through hell and fucked with his mind ten ways from Sunday. She left a lot of deep wounds in that man, wounds that are still trying to heal, almost 7 years later. His next relationship was basically a rebound. So, yeah…I’m sitting pretty compared to those two. My fear comes from him seeing me for what I am – a woman of average intelligence, average looks, and average interest. There is nothing exceptionally special about me. I have no specific talents, aside from maybe being able to cook a pretty good meal. I’m good at being a mom, even though I question that some days. But I don’t see anything about myself that sets me apart from any other woman. I don’t say that in a “pity me, poor broken thing that I am” kind of way. Not everyone can be exceptional. It’s a fact of life. You have your exceptionally smart people, like Stephen Hawking. Exceptionally beautiful, like [insert your favorite actor/model/celebrity here]. You have your exceptionally funny people like George Carlin. But then you have the multitudes of us who stand in awe of those exceptional people. That’s life. It’s made up of far more average folks than exceptional.

We’re just ordinary people!!

My husband, however, is exceptional. He is incredibly smart. He constantly amazes me with his wealth of knowledge, how he is able to retain seemingly everything he hears or reads. EVERY. SINGLE. THING. He just puts me to shame when Jeopardy is on. It should be noted, however, that he has never once said or done anything to make me feel inferior. He doesn’t talk down to me or treat me like an idiot. The feeling of not being good enough or on par with him is entirely of my own doing. Sometimes I feel like he deserves someone that is his intellectual equal, rather than having to constantly catch his less-intelligent wife up on so many topics. He has had some incredible experiences in life. He’s done interesting and wonderful things. He’s made friends and memories that are always a lot of fun to hear him talk about. He is an incredibly fascinating man. He has a great sense of humor, and he is so funny. I literally laugh every single day when I’m with him. But he’s sweet and humble and thoughtful and helpful and just a beautiful human being. He is a genuinely good guy.

(Author’s representation)

Being with someone that you feel is far too good for you is a challenge. I’ve done well so far, but his impending date has brought out those insecurities. What it boils down to is I’m afraid. I’m afraid he will meet a woman who is every bit as fascinating and intelligent and quick-witted and interesting as he is. I’m afraid that her awesomeness will shine a direct spotlight on my flaws, magnify them by a thousand, show him all the ugly, warts-and-all side of me that he may have overlooked/forgiven up until this point. I’m afraid that he’ll say to himself, “Hey, if this amazing person thinks I’m great, then maybe I deserve better. Why am I settling for a McDonald’s hamburger when I’ve got a decadent T-bone throwing itself at me?” I’m afraid that I just won’t be enough anymore.

Pictured: My insides

Of course, he reassured me that he loves me. That he wants to be with me. That I am his best friend and the best wife he could ever ask for. He means well, he really does. And I think he sincerely believes that when he’s laying in bed with me, the possible future relationship with Rose still an abstract idea floating around in the ether. Still, I can’t help but wonder if the eyes he looked at me with are going to be the same ones he looks at me with when he comes back home.

I suppose I’ll just have to wait and see.