How Sleeping With Another Woman Improved My Marriage
Sometimes traveling helps us find our way home
I wake before dawn, my hotel room still dark but for the green glow of the smoke detector above my bed. I lie still, hoping to drift back to sleep for another hour or two, but my brain is spinning. This day is finally here, and it’s too late to turn back. It’s time to get up.
I take a cool shower to burn off the lingering fog of a restless night’s sleep. When I’m finally alert, I dry off and examine myself in the bathroom mirror. I’m not usually the type to linger on my appearance, but today I perseverate over my reflected image. My naked body looks pretty good, I guess. I curl my biceps and am pleased at the definition. The attention I’ve been giving them at the gym the last couple of weeks has finally started to show.
When I turn on the overhead light on, I look washed out and skinny. I run a hand through my thinning hair, which hasn’t needed a comb in three years. Nothing much I can do about that. At forty-three, this is what I am, and I can only hope it’s enough.
After putting on jeans and a t-shirt that’s a little too small — might as well get maximum mileage out of those countless bicep curls — I call down to room service and order French toast, a fruit plate, and a bottle of champagne. They’re…
