“And I’m guessing you’re not talking about bungee jumping?”
He has the nerve to chuckle at this. When I stare angrily back at him, he squirms in his chair but doesn’t answer my question.
“So, you mean experiences like having sex with other women?” I press.
The nod that follows is miniscule.
“It doesn’t have to be sex,” he says after a few long seconds. “At least, not right away. It could just be dates, or you know, other stuff…”
Other stuff? I wasn’t aware Jeremy knew how to doother stuff. Our sex life has always been okay, but Jeremy is far from the master of foreplay.
“No, Jeremy, I really don’tknow,” I respond sharply. He opens his mouth to say something, but I cut him off. “Please explain to me how spending what little free time we have sleeping with other people is going to help our relationship.”
Irritation flashes over his face. The absolute audacity of this man to be irritated with me right now. I think I’m going to do it. I’m going to stab him in the foot with this stupid pair of stilettos that I admittedly wore more for his benefit than my own.
Lesson learned: wear comfy shoes on every date because you never know when you might need to walk out.
“It might take some of the pressure off,” he finally says with an exasperated sigh.
Pressure—there’s that word again. He’s been using it a lot lately.
When we met in college, I made it clear that I wasn’t interested in casual hookups or temporary flings. No judgment to anyone who is, but I’m an all-in sort of girl. I’ve always been quiet and reserved around new people. If I’m putting in the time and effort to really open up to someone, I need to know that there’s a future, or at least the possibility of a future with them.
In a nutshell, I’m the relationship type and marriage is my endgame. I like the idea of finding my person and buildinga life with them. Jeremy always said we were on the same page, and that was enough for me. I’ve never—not even once—given him any sort of ultimatum or some arbitrary timeline. I knew it would happen eventually. Hetoldme it would happen eventually.
Knowing all of this, I can’t even begin to fathom why he would think that I am interested in sleeping with other people, or in giving him my blessing to do so.
Jeremy’s phone buzzes on the table, and we both look over. He picks it up, fiddles with something quickly, then sets it face down on the table again.
A thought pops into my head. An awful, gut-wrenching thought that bubbles past my lips before I can think twice about whether I really want to know the answer.
“And where would we meet these other people?”
When Jeremy hesitates, my stomach twists sharply.
“There’s this app…”
Of course there is. Jeremy has an app for everything on this phone.
“Have you already downloaded it?” I interrupt, my voice rigid with anger.
Another miniscule nod.
I hesitate for a second then ask, “Have youusedit?”
We stare at each other across the table for several excruciatingly long seconds. Guilt is etched all over his face.
Then he nods again.
My mouth goes dry. I try to swallow but my throat just bobs painfully. I can’t tell if I’m about to cry or about to be sick all over the fancy white tablecloth. All I know is that I have to get out of here and far, far away from him.
My chair scrapes against the wood floor as I abruptly stand to leave.
“Wait, Margot, I’m sorry,” Jeremy says in a panic. He stands up and grabs my wrist as I try to make my way past him. “It was just one woman… just a couple of times. It didn’t mean anything. We don’t have to change anything. We can just go back to the way things were,” he pleads.
“No, Jeremy—we can’t. We’re done,” I say, pulling my wrist out of his grasp and walking away.
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