Mistle-camel-toe
Kumusta Tita Slut,
One of the fondest memories I have during the holidays is when I lost my virginity to a very sexy man I met in my early 20s. I was finishing up my third semester of college and I still had not partied like I wanted to. You know that “American Pie” style party. I decided to go home and visit my parents for the holidays in rural American, one of those college towns where virtually no eligible bachelors exist unless you’re looking for a farmer or a pastor, both of which sport beer bellies and Catholic guilt and neither turn me on.
I was told by one of my friends that a frat party was happening close to home. Me, being the doe-eyed sophomore girl looking for a bit of fun, I decided to go despite my overwhelming air of awkwardness highlighted by my ill-fitting Christmas sweater and oversized glasses. I’m sitting alone on the couch sipping on a rum and coke from a red cup when all of a sudden, a sweet boy named Keith sits down beside me. I don’t know what he saw in me, but he must have seen something past my gawkiness. I barely understood a word he said because I was too focused on the way the short sleeves of his polo wrapped comfortably around his biceps. Needless to say that this interaction would eventually lead to us going back to his place where I had the most amazing sex of my entire life which would then lead to a three-month long relationship.
The fire burned as quickly as it died out. We would have sex every day, but I don’t think either one of us knew that meant just sex. He told me he loved me within a week of knowing me. I was so flustered and excited that I said it back without thinking about it. Eventually we had to break up due to some assault and manslaughter charges that ultimately caught up to him. I tried seeing him in prison, but the two-hour drives caught up to me and I could no longer keep it up. We lost touch after a few weeks until the visits stopped.
Fast forward 10 years later, and I am typing this letter to you in my bed in my nice LA apartment with a decent career and married to my wonderful husband Dan sleeping soundly beside me. Every holiday for the last 10 years, I can’t help but think of Keith and the burning, fiery passion that we had for each other. And every holiday I can’t help but feel awful for having these thoughts. I feel like I’m cheating on my husband. I have these “what if” thoughts that seem to be fleeting but always return and tend to linger. What if Keith never went to jail? Would I be happy with him? I’m perfectly content with Dan, but the thought of Keith pushing me against the wall with his rock hard body sends my body quaking. Did I make the wrong decision? Should I get a divorce? Am I a bad person for having these kinds of thoughts? More importantly, how do I get rid of him from my memory so that I can move on with my life and be a good wife to my husband?
Signed,
Wet Dreaming Wife
Hey WDW,
Can I first just say holy shit, what a hell of a letter! I was reading this going cute…wait…what?! That manslaughter line was totally out of left field, and what a treat indeed. Thank you for that lovely Christmas present.
I want to get this out of the way before we talk about anything: your wandering thoughts are so fucking sexy and filthy, it makes me proud that you’re a reader. It brings a little warmth to this old lady’s cold, Grinchy heart. Your story reminds me of that show on Netflix, Sex/Life. It’s absolutely garbage and the gays are gagging (pun intended) over that one shower scene and for good reason. Give it a watch if you haven’t yet. You might see a bit of yourself in the main character, Billie.
Spoiler alert: Billie does in fact cheat on her husband by going back to an old romantic flame. She’s absolutely in the wrong about this, and I’m not saying you should go out and fuck your old flame. I’m saying you should send him my way, and I’ll let him nog on my eggs this Christmas. Jokes aside, you and the show have a similar story where you’re content with the life you live, but yearn for that excitement. That novel experience where the flame never dies. The only difference is that you’re not a boring piece of shit and you sound pretty loyal to your husband.
The issue here is not that you’re a bad person, but you’re a person with salacious thoughts and you want to rid yourself of these fantasies. I can tell you that when you hold something back and never address it, it’s going to blow up one way or another and you’ll end up with a very expensive plumbing bill. There’s absolutely nothing wrong with having sexy fantasies! The problem is when you believe that these fantasies are a statement of your character. You say you have it all with your wonderful hubby Dan, but are riddled with guilt because you want more. I get this. I’m a recovering Catholic, and the guilt that comes with organized religion is tattooed on me forever.
I think that you ruminating on your sexy little trysts with Keith is a sign of a healthy mind. It tells me that your creative and adventurous spirit still lives within you, not diluted by domesticity and complacency. Think having a little play room tucked away from prying eyes behind a book case that can be opened with the tipping of an inconspicuous book. It’s fucking fantastic that your mind wanders and looks back at your memories fondly. These are your memories to escape to and they are yours to keep and nobody can take that away from you.
Erotic romance novels have been such a pillar of housewife culture. You’re living your Desperate-Housewives-Gabrielle-Solis-Season-One-Story-Arc fantasy, and I’m here for it. What I worry about is that you’re using your memories of Keith as a way to channel your deep desire for novelty. You need to find some means of channeling that wildfire energy in to something that doesn’t make you feel guilty. I don’t know; go skydiving, take up an extreme sport, go to a fisting class with your husband. Anything to quench the flames of your novel desire that doesn’t lead you to cheating. Maybe open up the relationship? Just a suggestion.
It’s impossible to get rid of your memories of Keith and “move on” with your life. In fact, I would highly suggest against it. If I may offer an alternative, I suggest that you keep your memories of Keith close to your heart and use them as a way to look back on a happy time in your life whenever you’re feeling sad or low. Just don’t indulge in it too much, y’know? Like any good romance novel, it lives in our head and can affect that way we think and act. Keep in mind that this is fiction. The memories you have of Keith are now fiction. Who knows where he is now or how he ended up? (I hope he ends up in my bed, just saying.) Live in the present, but don’t forget your past. Nostalgia makes you a human being and is one of the gifts we are afforded in this life. And by the way things look now, gifts are in short supply.
Mahal kita,
Tita Slut
