Monday, August 28, 2017

On The Compression of Time

In less than two days, I will be picking Jade up from the airport and driving her to her friend's house, where she will stay for a week or so until her new place is available.  I offered to do this because I want to see Jade again.  There is no need to test the waters with her; she wants to resume an arrangement with me.  I have been intentionally vague with her about that, and have told her it's because I have a story to tell her and want her to be fully informed before she decides for sure.  Plus, I'm buying myself more time so that I can pave the way with DW to begin a non-monogamous period in our marriage. It's essential that it happen, even if just for a short period of time.

As Jade and I have exchanged texts over my work cell phone, I've noticed how time seems to have disappeared in just a few days.  I haven't seen Jade in more than two years.  Since our lunch in the summer of 2015, I've had three short arrangements -- Staci, Aussie, and Mel -- seen a number of others just once or twice -- College, Gemini, Fleur, Rachel, No-name, Natalie, KC, Chic, and MJ -- and had two frustrating false starts with Leah and Red.  Further, I've spent the past seven-plus months in therapy with DW repairing our relationship and healing the wounds that have gone untended for the past nine years.  And yet, even with all of that, seeing Jade will compress all of that into a little folder and make it seem like just yesterday when I gazed at her lovely face.

"I think we should get together for soup and sex," she texted me this morning. "Bullshit," I replied, "I know you're joking because you said 'soup.'"

The slope is slippery, but I will keep my feet under me.  I will not have sex with Jade unless and until DW consents to an open marriage.

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