44 - Pillow Politics

Remember the bathroom—the one that left me wishing I could have showered at home, if I hadn’t been squirted from pubic bone to cheekbone?

For simplicity’s sake, let’s call the owner of that bathroom Kim. After our date, contact between us was sporadic, which didn’t bother me. It became clear rather quickly that 45-minute lunch-break fucks just aren’t on my menu. They’re like fast food: great for sudden cravings, but not exactly… nourishing.

You may also recall this detail: Kim has been part of Chloé’s rotation for two years. They get along well—and his wife and Chloé even go on holiday together with his family. If you’re flipping back wondering whether that vacation combo really happened: Yes. It did. That was before I started documenting everything with the precision of a court stenographer. And if you’re thinking, “This is too much for me,”

Congratulations—you're probably monogamous.

Lately, though, Chloé hadn’t mentioned Kim at all. We assumed she was being discreet after our bodily-fluid-rich encounter. But as it turned out, the silence had another cause: drama behind the scenes. Or rather—in the sheets.

And how do I know? Three guesses. Exactly—Kim told me. Apparently, he needed someone to pour his heart out to. I didn’t mind listening—the mister wasn’t part of that equation. Of course, I later told the hubby everything—we’re big on open communication.What I didn’t expect was that this news would shake him to his core.

For him, Chloé and Kim had always been the poster couple for relaxed, drama-free parallel relationships—the kind of dynamic he secretly wished for himself and Chloé. So hearing that their connection had apparently fallen apart forced him to face an uncomfortable truth:

It could happen to him too. And the fact that we didn’t hear it from Chloé, but from Kim—well… that didn’t exactly make it less explosive. Because open marriages aren’t just about the people who join—they're also about the ones who leave.

The line between replaceable and meaningful is thinner than anyone likes to admit. Thanks to our swipe-swipe-next mentality, genuine connection is about as rare these days as a kind comment on social media. It’s hard not to feel interchangeable—to see the human being in front of you instead of the tempting body parts we tumble into bed with.

If you want a solid pro tip: Steer clear of setups where the sheets keep rotating faster than you can swap a condom. You will inevitably end up in scenarios you never wanted, hearing things you didn’t want to hear—but now know anyway. And then you’re stuck pretending you know nothing about something someone clearly didn’t want you to know.

If you’re planning a full-contact ring-around-the-rosy: Maybe don’t exchange numbers with everyone. Otherwise, you may one day find yourself comforting your husband’s girlfriend’s ex—while wiping away the last metaphorical traces of squirting stress from your forehead. Meanwhile, your husband wonders whether he should reinstall Tinder—you know… just in case.