[This is a nearly all true memoir of what I recall.]

During a dark period, early in our unwedded bliss, my girlfriend, Amber, grew restless with our status quo. She didn’t know what she wanted, but she knew she wanted more. Her habitual lies about nearly everything made it hard to decode what troubled her and she didn’t want to explore it. I was supposed to know what she wanted without questions or chats. As she grew more and more distant, she began “working late” more and more often, then going out with friends for frequent nights out.

I stumbled across a personal ad she’d placed in a “Rainbow Gazette” for a female companion with benefits. By further observation and knowing of her early extensive sexual play, I asked if she were dating someone else for more sex or just companionship. That was a derivation of two sales tricks called the “assumptive close” where you assume the sale is already made and the “alternative close” which helps your prospect clarify their thoughts.

Though I was totally devoted to her joy, and happy to make sacrifices to support her, and happy to help her cum even in the rare times I wasn’t in the mood, her answer to my question was BOTH. She finally broke down and tearfully admitted that she longed for the special touch of a woman. It wasn’t just more sex, she felt starved for Sapphic sex.

As I sorted thru the lies and her confusion about being straight or gay, I saw that once again there was no middle ground. Those were her only choices and being BI wasn’t an option, yet she didn’t want to leave me for anyone else. She said she still loved, was in love, with me and wanted me, but needed more. Her mind was closed to the third option, so I painfully helped her explore her confusion, as her best friend, not her lover.

Painfully, I drove her to meet the contacts from the Gazette and watched for her safety until she signaled I could go home. I consoled her when some of those meetings were much less than she wanted. Watching her pick up these women and serially court some of them before deciding the ads were leading her to the wrong people, was heart wrenching. She seemed more at ease after her experiments. Yet, despite my best efforts as both a friend and lover, she began distancing again.

I followed her twice to “the home of her coworker,” which turned out to be a moody bar instead. Her lies will be the end of us. She’d sworn she’d be home by ten, but called me at 10:10 to say she was staying out later, might even sleep over, and not to wait up. I clearly heard the bar noises surrounding her and asked where she was. She said she was with her friend and all I heard was the TV. LIES.

Two cars pulled up just about one a.m. All my house lights were off, but I was still watching TV and waiting. Amber stayed in our car, in our driveway, while the other car parked behind her. A slim woman slipped out of her car and quietly moved into our car to sit next to Amber. When I killed the TV, I could hear them giggling, but could only catch the odd word. With the help of a street light, I saw Amber reach out and pet Pat’s hair then rest her hand on her cheek. Pat reached out for my girl’s face and they slowly leaned toward each other. As if in slow motion, I watched my lover tilt her head and hesitantly kiss Pat on her lips. After a second’s delay, their mouths met fully and their articulating jaws left no doubt their tongues were thoroughly wetting each other.