The Half Life of Affairs

Short. But never forgettable.

Affairs are like plutonium. What’s the half-life of plutonium?

Oh, only 24,000 years.

That’s it.

A drop in the bucket of humankind.

Affairs may not last long, but their half-lives are infinitely long. You remember them vividly. Every erotic detail seared into your memory.

I remember my Doctor pushing me back against the hotel bed for my first head-hanging-off-the-bed blow job. I had never done that in my marriage.

“What do you want me to do?” I asked. I was genuinely befuddled. He must have thought I was slow.

“Push your head back like this,” as he positioned me the way he wanted.

“Ah. I get it,” I said, as he prompted me.

“You like this?” I asked.

“YES. You are so hot.”

It’s the visual.

My Italian introduced me to anal.

“You want to try it?” he asked.

“I’m not sure.” I was just getting used to sex. Period. After years of not having any.

“I’ll go slow. We can stop at any time.”

“Not yet, but someday,” I said. Ten months into our affair, I said yes. “I’m ready.”

He was so excited. “You sure?”

“It hurts so much. Stop,” I cried. My lover stopped immediately, and came all over my ass.

The visual, again.

I learned some of the things I didn’t like about my body turned men on. Like my ass — round and white. I didn’t understand it’s appeal.

“You like my ass?” I asked incredulously. “I love your ass, baby.”

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