The last few posts have been a celebration of sorts – I’ve had my fun, given some blow-jobs, messed around, and now I’m back home and all is well. After all, I can still have my fantasies, never did throw away the toys…
Then I read Your Husband the other day. As I commented and e-mailed Jefferson, it had a visceral effect. That night driving home, I found my mind revisiting it. Today, as a reality check, I went back and re-read the post. I know there is all sorts of debate floating around – Edna’s comments, people (for reasons I can’t comprehend) blaming Jefferson for being with those who chose to be with him - a lot of noise to me because I keep going back to the original post.
The thing is that he captured an experience with an eye to detail that made it impossible to dismiss – I never had the exact experience of course – but for all practical purposes I was “your husband”. Which leads me to my reactions,
I read the post and found myself getting hard. My heart was in my throat. We are both in the same City and I was sorry I had not found him. I wondered how I find him now. All this from someone who had just finished a series of posts that I am making progress in resolving my issues - that I can live with just the fantasies. Yet I want to e-mail him – tell him I have a lunch hour – when’s good for you?
I went home that night troubled. My wife has been telling me for a week now that I am too quick to dismiss this all – that close to forty years of being bi somewhere inside is not let out and then recaptured in a matter of weeks. She tells me that I need to play this out further - to truly understand how it (or more I) fit. I tell her of Jefferson’s post – in broad strokes – and my reaction – in broad strokes. She does not say much – she had known this before I did.
The “simple” seemed clearer the other day; today is for the “huge”.