My wife Claire is beautiful, I mean, like really fantastic. If you polled a hundred guys I'm sure she'd come out at a high eight out of ten. But not just a regular eight, I mean a special eight. I say that because I know lots of guys prefer different things. I've seen how guys look at her and I know she doesn't have long legs, or exotic looks, or huge knockers, but what she has is universally appreciated. She doesn't even need make-up to look good. She looks just as good when she rolls out of bed in the morning as when she's dressed to the nines. She's like the proverbial girl next door that no one notices next to the bombshell, but more guys would prefer none-the-less. If she only knew. She definitely underestimates her attractiveness.
In addition, she's smart, and loves sex. In fact, she's the most sexual girl I've ever dated. She's not crude but doesn't blush at rough language. Unfortunately, she doesn't have the highest self-esteem and also gets nervous easily.
One morning I looked across the table at my bride of three months dumbfounded at her words: unsmiling she repeated herself, "Would you forgive me if I cheated?"
Her asking filled me with doubt and questions of my own. Had she cheated? How would I feel about it? How should I answer?
I always thought of our love as unconditional. That It could survive anything. Surely this question was merely hypothetical. I stammered, "My Love, I could forgive you anything." Then I added, "But it would hurt me terribly. Our trust..."
Fearfully, I shifted gears and mustered the courage to ask, "Did you, I mean have you..."
She almost dropped her glass. Leaning forward, her eyes wide in surprise at my counterquestion, "Oh no! I could never. I love you too much. And no one would want me anyway. But you're right about our trust. It would be strained to the point of breaking."
I breathed again, relieved. Then she continued forlornly, "I didn't ask because I would be the one. I, well I asked because I see how your eyes are drawn to a shapely ass on the young girls at the mall." She sucked in a desperate breath, "Oh Honey, I can't sleep at night for the dread of it. I worry, with you being so handsome and all."
I put her mind at ease, reassuring her that I would never cheat. That she was gorgeous and desirable. That our love would last forever.
Despite my comforting words, over the next few months I could see that she was truly preoccupied and burdened regarding my theoretical affair. I always knew she was prone to worry but I never dreamed it would take this melancholic turn.
Sure, I've looked at an occasional rump, but I'm probably the least likely man on the planet to break my marital promise: I love her deeply and would do anything for her.
At night she would clutch my hand and I would hold it tight. During the day I started calling her 'My Forever Girl' instead of just 'sweety' as further reassurance.
One night while out to dinner the waitress bent low exposing her ample cleavage to us. I looked. But who wouldn't? I mean, even my Claire looked. The woman's breasts were nice but ultimately too large. I wouldn't like the sag. My wife's medium and firm titties were ideal.
Sadly, she was cheerless for the rest of the night. I snuggled close and whispered lovingly into her ear. But alas, nothing I did ever assuaged her 'infidelity-blues'.
The following Saturday at breakfast she broached the topic again, "If one of us cheated we would have to rebuild; restore balance. Like, if you cheated there would be an imbalance, with you up here," she gestured with one hand held up high, "and me down here." She held her other palm down low.
In response, I joked, "I guess you'd have to have a fling then to even up the scales."
She frowned, calmly mulling my words over, "Noooo, I could never do that. It would make it even, but it would be even with both of us being down here. It's not right to balance an affair with an affair. And besides, I don't want to.
Quickly I offered, "Claire, I don't want to either! I really don't want anyone except you. You gotta believe me."
She bit her fingers, "I know you don't want to. But you're charming, and cute, and successful, and funny. I see the way girls act around you. It's gonna happen. You can't stop it - like fate or something.
I came around to her side of the table cradling her head against my chest, "It's not gonna happen, Babe. It won't - never. I won't cheat. You won't cheat. We won't need to find a way to restore balance."
I felt her tears wetting my chest through my shirt, "You're right, Scotty, you're always right. We don't need to restore balance. We'd both be down here. What we need is a counterbalance.
She hugged me tight for like, five minutes. Then when she ventured to speak again she said, "Sooo, if the balance to a pleasant enjoyable affair is another affair, then the counterbalance to your fooling around would be...you having to suck a dick."
I think my eyes nearly popped out of my head. I hated to see her so distraught and just wanted her to stop crying. Naturally, I knew a thousand percent I would never have an affair - so I agreed, "OK, if I ever have an affair I'll do that." And it worked. She stopped crying.
I thought it was over. Yet, she still looked for lipstick on my collar when I came home from work. She tested my sex drive by offering me sex when she thought I'd be unlikely to need it. She had Alexa listen in on my conversations at work. Lastly, I found her checking the credit card statements too.
It came to a head when her OCD got bad. When she flipped a light switch she would flip it exactly 14 times. And if she had an itch she would scratch it seven times - she called it the seven year itch. Her hands were raw from washing them. The worst was that she still woke up in terrified sweats most nights. Something had to change.
It seems like Saturday breakfast was always the time to talk: "You know, you're always gonna be my Forever Girl - unless you die from stress. I think you should see someone."
The look of terror on her face shocked me until I realized she thought I was suggesting she sleep with another guy. "No, I mean, you should see a professional, a therapist, about your problems."
The terror was gone. Now she just looked confused. So, I explained, You're hands bleed. It takes a half-hour whenever you leave the house. And you worry constantly that I'm gonna cheat. I just wanna see you smile again."
She looked me straight in the eye and with great confidence said, "That's only because you are going to. Don't try to deny it. Those girls are irresistible, and you're only human. I married you because, next to my father, you're the strongest man I've ever known but you're only so strong. He caved you know? My own father caved. And it killed my mother."
