Erik asked me to dinner. Showed up at my office (I really must tell him to stop springing himself on me. On the other hand, if he didn’t spring himself on me, I’d just say “no” to everything and never see him again, so, perhaps, he has a point).
First, I said yes. Then, I said no. Then I told him I was married. Not that me being married had anything to do with dinner. I mean, dinner is fine, but not when one is married. Finally, I marshalled my errant thoughts enough to tell him my husband was very much insistent on all my free time being reserved for the family, and so Erik promptly invited us both (husband included) to dinner. Said that, surely, my husband could not object to catching up with an old law school acquaintance and, besides, seeing that he – Erik – was leaving for Ottawa, what could be the harm?
I agreed that there was no harm, when he put it like that, and told my husband that an old law school acquaintance asked us both to dinner. Deep inside, all plastic surgeons must hate all women, and my husband is no exception. In spite of his professed dislike of formal dining, he accepted the invitation, when I told him; and added that he could not understand why I wanted to waste my time on ghosts of law schools past, but was willing to humour me, being such a good husband and all.
We had a lovely evening. The boys found plenty to talk about and charmed the pants off one another (I wish). I had to stick to drinking nothing but water, certain that, if I permitted myself any alcohol, the words “So, fellows, what are your views on threesomes? Like, right now,” would have leapt off my tongue. And that would have been wrong. Quite wrong.
So, I had nothing to worry about, after all. Erik had gone to Ottawa and that is that. I’m not even that disappointed. After I watched Abby deluge my hand-embroidered tablecloth and listened to Devika hiccup her way through the conversation, I am kind of off the whole adultery thing. Nor am I sure I’m happy about Erik being here after all.
Turns out, I was perfectly content to let him stay an erotic memory I could peruse on an as-needed basis. Besides, if things were ever to get serious with Erik, I am not certain I would enjoy my husband getting hurt. If I concentrate really hard, I can still remember how in love with my husband I had been. At some point.
Come to think of it, my husband is not that different from Erik; Erik’s two huge advantages being that, with him, I am not sharing a mortgage and two children with the social graces of Darth Sith.
So as far as men are concerned, my options are about as varied as Lily’s breakfast choices. Yogurt muesli or oatmeal, that’s it. Although, unlike me, she always knows which one she wants.