Page 10 of Opening It Up
“Are you sure about this?” he asked, with that devastatingly handsome boyish grin flashing across his face. At 44, he not only had as much charisma as ever, but he knew it, too. And he was only going to get hotter.
I felt a spasm of nerves, feeling unexpectedly vulnerable.
“It--makes me nervous. . . but I’m willing to try it. If it’s important to you.”
For a minute, I hoped Harley would see my clear reluctance and call the whole thing off. But he didn’t.
Grinning at me, he went to grab us refills of coffee and came back to the table.
“I’m really happy to hear that you’re open to this, sweetheart. I think this honesty will lead to increased intimacy and connection in our own relationship.”
“Will it?” I asked through numb lips. “How will it do that?”
“We’ll be open with each other,” he said earnestly. “No secrets between us. Open and affirmative communication only.”
“And you really want this?” I asked. “You really want me to go on dates with other men?”
“Of course!” my husband said brightly. “I want you to explore new relationships and perspectives, too.”
New relationships? Even the thought of it was exhausting to me.
Teagan had a science fair project, Rowan was wanting to get into soccer.
“I don’t know how much time in my schedule I’ll have for this,” I said weakly.
Harley knew me. He knew I was a busy, frazzled mom. I barely had time to condition my hair, let alone seek out the perspective of some random man’s penis.
But he didn’t acknowledge that at all.
“We can figure that out. I’m just so happy you were open to hearing my point of view,” my husband practically purred, kissing me on the top of my head. “I hear your concern about scheduling. So let’s talk logistics.”
I stared down at my own toes, the pink nail polish chipped and peeling off.
“I want this to be fully open and transparent,” Harley continued, suddenly unrolling a massive calendar in front of me. “We’ll mark all our dates on here. I propose that we do a rotation schedule and trade off days for going on dates. Allowing, of course, for the usual family time.”
I nodded.
Of course. Right. All the dates we’d be going on with other people.
“Let’s say Friday night will be family night. One of us will take the first weekend, then the other. You can have Tuesday and Thursday evenings?—"
“Harley,” I interrupted, clearing my throat. “Are you sure this isn’t—about anyone in particular?”
“Why would you think it would be about anyone?”
I gritted my teeth.
Sometimes.
Just sometimes.
My husband’s grasp of psychological principles was very annoying.
“I just want to know.”
“No,” he said, taking both my hands and looking right in my eyes. “This is about me wanting to push the strict and repressive boundaries of what’s expected in a long-term monogamous relationship.”
“All right,” I said.
