“His wife is so lucky.”

      One morning, after having amazing sex with a married man, I sat down for breakfast with a friend of mine. I was telling her all the details from the drunken night before, leaving out all the gory details of course. I don’t know why I said these things to her when a couple days before, she told me that she was a victim of infidelity. Thinking back on that now, I realize how selfish and stupid I was, bragging about sleeping with a man who left his wife and 2 daughters at home to party it up and cheat. Well, being that the words were said, it’s obvious I wasn’t thinking like that back then. I just wanted to share the news with someone.  When I think of those words now, I don’t understand how I could even bring myself to think that. How could I possibly think that a woman, not just a woman but a wife, was lucky that her husband, who is one of the few men on this Earth who actually knew what he was doing in bed, was out sleeping with another woman? My friend broke me out of my deep thought and told me that it was a pretty good chance that his wife wasn’t getting that type of mind-blowing sex at home. She said that it’s a possibility that they may not even touch or communicate at night, so this wife of his may not be so lucky.

      Now, usually when I sleep with a John, I don’t give two craps about their home life. I usually ask a few questions to make myself seem somewhat human and feminine; asking about their home life (as if I really care), listening to stories about how they met their wives, and so on. I’ve always had the notion that as women, we are more in tune with the emotional aspect of things, so we talk, and listen while men, who are more in tune with the physical, show they care through being physical; sex, kissing, groping. So naturally, I would think that talking would make me seem like less of a whore, and like more of a woman in dire need of good sex. After years of sleeping with John’s…I still don’t know what they really think of me. And honestly… I’m not sure I want to know. If they aren’t trying to marry me <and of course me wanting that in return> then why should I care? They are just another notch in the old belt…nick in the wood headboard…and every other crazy saying out there. I try to keep myself “thinking like a man” by not giving a flying fuck about what a guy thinks about my morals. Why? They can do it, so why can’t I? Why can’t I sleep with 20 men and brag about it to my friends without being called a hoe? Why can’t I catch a disease, give it to someone else and laugh about who I “burned” along the way? I mean, not that I want to <or that I’ve ever had a disese>, but you get what I’m saying…Double standards.

      But, there was a part of me that cared what this man thought. Not about me, but about his wife back at home. About what his girls would think if they knew what daddy was doing when he was away. Yeah I may seem caring now, but it’s been 8 months and these thoughts are only now coming to mind. How could I possibly think a victim was lucky in any way? Image

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