Hi people, You see the strangest things on the net. The other day I was looking through my email and saw an article on women who want their husbands to have an affair. It got my curiosity up so I read it. This story is the result of that.The article was true, the story isn't. But the great editing job by Mikothebaby almost makes it feel real. SS06
My name is Carmen Johnson. I'm writing this story for all of you other mid to late-forties women out there who may be in my shoes. A little over a year ago I read an article online about women in our age bracket who were in supposedly very stable marriages who wished their husbands would have an affair.
Yeah, I know it sounds strange to me too. It sounded so strange that I read the whole article and that was what fucked up my life. The article talked about women who wanted their husbands to have an affair, so they'd have a reason to divorce them.
In most cases the husbands didn't beat or abuse the women, they weren't cheating on them, nor were they alcoholics or addicts of any kind. In most cases there was nothing wrong with the husbands at all, the women had simply fallen out of love with them. In the majority of the cases the women were also not having or planning on having an affair themselves. They'd once again simply fallen out of love with the men they married.
After reading the article, I was shocked even further because what they described seemed almost exactly like my life.
The more I thought about it, the more it began to resonate with me. It was word for word a perfect description of my life. There was nothing wrong with my husband Allen. He's a truly nice man. He's a great provider and an even better father to our daughter Joy. He's very compassionate and forgiving and I know from the bottom of my heart that he loves me. He'd make a great best friend, but he just doesn't do it for me anymore.
I remember when we were first together, when there seemed to always be a fire burning between my legs, or an itch that it seemed like only he could scratch. But after being together for twenty five years and married for twenty-three, I guess he finally took care of that itch because I just don't have it anymore.
Don't get me wrong, I still love him, but it's more the way you love a brother or a cousin. I thought about it for a couple of days and wondered what I should do about it. I'd been pondering that question the evening that one of my lifelong girlfriends had come over to pass the time. Allen had gotten home from work an hour or so before. He'd gone into our home gym to throw some weights around as he called it while he waited for the sun to drop.
Allen is a runner. In Michigan it gets so hot during the middle of the summer that Allen usually waits until six thirty or seven to go out and run. He'd kissed me and then headed out to pound the pavement for a while as I sat down to talk to Patti.
"He is so cute, Carmen," she'd said. "I love the way that after all of this time he still loves you. Usually, by his age they're sick of their wives and screwing their secretaries. But that man still loves you just as much as he did when you guys first got together."
"Yeah, isn't it great," I said. I guess my tone let Patti know that I was less than enthusiastic about the subject.
"What's wrong?" she asked. "Don't tell me there's trouble in paradise?"
"Not exactly trouble," I said. I grabbed her arm and dragged her into our home office where I showed her the article. She read it and then looked at me with a smile on her face.
"So you want Allen to have an affair," she smirked. "Just so you'd have a reason to divorce him. Honey you're out of your mind. Maybe you don't remember what single life was like. The last time you were single was what ... over twenty years ago. Trust me when you were single it was a completely different time and you were young and pretty. You could have had any guy you wanted and you took the cutest, smartest one you could find and you fell in love with him, got married and had a baby with him. You got the brass ring girl. You're on the train for happily ever after."
"If you want to see a fucked up life, try being forty-eight years old, divorced, living alone and not even steadily dating anyone. It makes what you have, seem like a fairy tale."
"I guess the grass is always greener from the other side," I said. "The freedom you have seems like it would be really great. You don't have to worry about making anyone's meals except your own. You can go anywhere you want, any time you want with anyone you want to go with. You're not tied down to anyone."
"Carmen, do you have rocks in your head?" she asked. "If I had to be tied down to anyone it would probably be either George Clooney or your husband Allen. Allen is a great guy. Out of every husband we know he's probably the best."
"I know that Patti," I snapped. "I'm not saying that Allen's not a great guy. He's a very good fucking guy okay. That's not the problem. The problem is that I just don't love him anymore. The problem is that every day I spend here feels like fucking torture and I want to be free. The problem is that from the bottom of my heart I can't take another night hoping that he doesn't want to have sex with me. The problem is that I just don't have the balls to ask him for a divorce because he's too nice a guy and I don't want to hurt him but he just doesn't turn me on anymore." As I'd spoken, my voice had risen to the point where I was almost yelling.
Patti looked stricken in front of me. Her eyes were huge and her hand was over her mouth.
"Did I shock you?" I asked. "I thought that when you've been friends for as long as we have that we could be honest with each other." Patti just sat there and then pointed behind me. I turned around to see my husband Allen standing behind me.
He looked like a balloon when all of the air has been sucked out of it. He had the biggest tears I've ever seen running down his cheeks. Then he looked up at me. "I forgot my iPod," he said. "I hate running with no music." He turned and went back out to do his run.
"Why didn't you tell me he was back there?" I yelled at Patti. "I didn't mean to hurt him. I was just thinking out loud."
"With you standing there in front of me flailing your arms around while you screamed out how bored you are, I didn't notice him there until it was too late," she said. "By then you'd already put your foot in your mouth."
"It's going to take some time to fix this one," I said. Patti looked at me like I was crazy.
"That man loves you, Carmen. Did you see how hurt he was?" I just nodded my head. My husband Allen is one of the strongest people I know. He once ran the last five miles of a marathon with blood pouring out of his shoe. He'd cut his foot on a piece of metal a little over a week before the race. They'd only taken the stitches out two days before. The pounding of running over twenty miles on that foot had torn the deep cut back open during the race. He kept running step after step, in agony but he finished.
"I don't think you even understand what you did, Carmen," Patti told me. "I really think that you read that article and started feeling that way because of what you read. I think you're going to end up like some of those stupid women who listen to Oprah and end up making their marriages far worse than they were."
After Patti left, I started thinking about what I would say to Allen when he came home. I felt a deep sense of dread. I was actually sorry that he'd over heard what I'd said. I guess I'd have phrased it differently if I'd had the chance. Allen, in all of our time together, had treated me like a precious gem. He'd never said an angry word to me, even when he was. He deserved far better. Even if I had intended to tell him, which I hadn't, I would have said it in much kinder terms.
About a half hour after Patti left the house phone rang. I picked it up.
"Hello, Carmen, it's James Peterson. I work with Allen. There's an emergency with one of our customers vent systems and since Allen designed that system we need him over here ASAP. I've tried calling his cell but it goes straight to voice mail. Is he there?"
"No, James, he's out running. He should be back soon. As soon as he gets in I'll tell him that you called."
"Thanks Carmen," he said. Then he hung up. About ten minutes after he called, Allen came in. His eyes were so different from the way they were when he'd kissed me on his way out for his run. They were dull and lifeless. His smile was gone and the easy comfortable way we related to each other was gone with it. He looked at me, not like the man who'd loved me and lived with me for over twenty years but like a stranger would. He looked as if he was waiting for me to say something.
"Uhm you got a call from James Peterson," I said. I felt like a coward for diverting his attention from our problems but I just didn't know what to say to him at that moment. I needed more time to think about what I wanted and about what to say.
A few minutes later I heard the shower running. Allen always took a shower after running. He'd learned early on that I wouldn't let him anywhere near me unless he was and smelled very clean.
I knew that he'd come downstairs ready to relax and watch TV with me and maybe we could talk a bit then.
He did come down the stairs but he was fully dressed, as if he was going to work. He also had his bigger briefcase with him.
"There's an emergency. I have to go," he said. I nodded my head.
"Allen, you just ran all of those miles, you're probably starving. Do you want me to make you something to eat?"
.... There is more of this story ...