In this week’s story, a woman comes to terms with her accidentally open relationship: 45, in a relationship, New York.
DAY ONE
8:30 a.m. I slept late, but it’s only because I was up in the night. I jolted awake at, like, 3 a.m. with the revelation that my boyfriend, Marc, is probably sleeping with other women. It’s not that he’s been “cheating,” it’s just that we never set any boundaries or rules and we are long-distance, and … it hit me like a ton of bricks.
10 a.m. After a long shower and some strong coffee, I’m in my “office,” which is just a tiny closet in my apartment. Literally stuck a desk and a lamp in here during COVID and never changed the arrangement. Kind of sad to be this age and living in a studio, but I do own it, so that’s that. Plus, I’m a painter, with a studio for painting just down the street, and I’ve never been interested in having more than I need. Never wanted kids. Just love, and lovers, and that’s good enough for me.
5 p.m. Marc and I always have a 5 p.m. call. He lives in L.A. and works in the music industry so he often sleeps until noon there, so this is a good time for both of us. We met about six months ago at an art show out there, where my work was featured. We had amazing chemistry from the start and started sleeping together and spending time together right away. We both are kind of free-spirited artists, so it’s just not our style to “define” things, but given we spend so much time together, take vacations together, and spend holidays together, I did think we were monogamous. Silly me for not discussing it, but I enjoy him, and he enjoys me, and it’s just not my style to do labels. All that said, I can’t be mad if he’s fucking others. It would seem slightly unethical but certainly not some big violation of our rules, because we have none!
On the phone I’m like, “Marc, there’s no right answer, but are you sleeping with someone else?” He seems taken aback. He asks why I ask that. I tell him it’s just a hunch. I mean, maybe he’s seemed a bit distracted lately, and maybe I was thrown when he said he can’t come to New York this weekend (we’ve been pretty much seeing each other every other weekend and switching up the cities). He says, “Yeah … I am sleeping with one person.” This might sound weird, but I’m not mad at all; I appreciate his honesty. It’s so much better than him lying and me knowing he’s lying. Before we can unpack the situation, I have to go. I have a hair appointment, of all things.
7 p.m. I’m telling all this to the guy who does my hair at his house and he tells me we should do something extreme, so I go blonde. I have dark hair and olive skin and it’s a real risk, but I feel like it’s my turn to shake things up.
10 p.m. By the time I get home, Marc is at work rehearsing. He plays music for a nighttime talk show out there. So I go to bed. I feel okay but mostly curious and, sure, a little bit sick. I do love my hair, though!
DAY TWO
7 a.m. My hair looks so good, all messy and almost white-blonde, that I decide to go paint. I’m inspired.
8 a.m. At my studio, putting all my friction and thoughts into my work. There’s also a voice in my head saying the thing with Marc has maybe run its course. I really like this guy, and our sex is unbelievable. I hear women my age talking about not wanting to have sex with their partners, and I’m just like, “Whaaaat?” I need sex with him every night I’m with him! I’m pretty sexual, though. Maybe I need a new man.
4 p.m. Marc calls a bit early today. He’s like, “Are you mad at me?” I tell him I’m not, but that it felt like we were monogamous, and it feels a little bit wrong? He says he thought we had no rules and were “open-ish.” There’s no point in hashing it out. I ask him more about this new lover. He tells me she’s a trans woman, which I wasn’t expecting. But now I’m kinda into this for him, actually. I want all the details.
5 p.m. Still on the phone, but I need to get back to work. It’s weird. I can’t tell if we’re breaking up or just vocally opening things up. I’m cool with whatever, for now. I think?
8 p.m. I’m at my favorite bar on the Upper West Side. Starting to look around for a sexy man, either to replace Marc or add to the repertoire. I don’t have any luck, so I head home and fall asleep early.
DAY THREE
7 a.m. I wake up and there’s a text from Marc saying he’s coming to New York tomorrow. He wants to see me. He “needs to be with” me. I’m not mad about it, but I have to shift some plans around. Whenever he visits, we spend a lot of time in my apartment just fucking.
9 a.m. I try to paint for a few hours, knowing I won’t have time to work over the next few days.
1 p.m. Stop by Whole Foods to fill my fridge. Typically, I only have some fruit, some produce, and coffee in there. I’m a single New Yorker; I usually eat all my meals at restaurants or get delivery!
5 p.m. Marc calls while I’m back at my painting studio. He sounds so hot on the phone. I love his deep voice. He says he’d rather talk about everything in person and he can’t wait to see me. I don’t object. I guess he took a few days off work, which makes me feel important.
8 p.m. Eating dinner at the sushi bar close to my apartment. There’s one single man here too, and we start talking. He’s visiting from Denmark and is somewhat attractive, but the accent doesn’t really do it for me. I enjoy the flirting, but all I want to do is get Marc into my arms and fuck his brains out, frankly.
DAY FOUR
8 a.m. I always clean my apartment really well before he visits. I love how it smells all scrubbed and wiped down. I open my windows and go down to the bodega and buy fresh flowers.
10 a.m. About an hour of computer work. I’m setting up a future show, and my agent has a few deals and sales to talk to me about.
2 p.m. Marc is in an Uber to see me. I decide to wait for him in my bra and underwear. While I’m being open-minded about his new fling, there’s a part of me that wants to remind him that no one is better than me. Maybe that’s evil, or maybe it’s just human nature. I put on a black lace bra and black lace underwear. I put on really beautiful-smelling lotion and I brush my teeth for about five minutes.
3 p.m. He’s here. We start kissing immediately. I undress him before he can even put down his bag! His face is scruffy and it’s irritating my face as we kiss like maniacs, and I love it. We start having sex and it’s pure bliss. But then I realize I need him to wear a condom. He’s officially sleeping with multiple people, something I had never considered in the past. I ask him if he has one, and he does, so he puts it on and we finish fucking. I personally hate the feeling of condoms. Not enough that I can’t come, but it’s a slight buzzkill for me.
5 p.m. We’re hanging around my apartment, naked and lazy, but I feel like we really need to “talk.” I am just a little bit uneasy about everything.
7 p.m. At dinner, over wine, we get into things. He tells me how he met this new woman, and what they do for fun, and what the sex is like. It doesn’t turn me on, but it doesn’t turn me off. I tell him that I’m not sure I can be in an open relationship — honestly, it’s mostly because of the condoms — but I’m okay with it for now.
9 p.m. We basically fuck ourselves to sleep.
DAY FIVE
7 a.m. I love waking up to this man. His body is big and warm. I love all his morning smells.
8 a.m. I let him sleep a bit longer because of the jet lag, but I’m dying to fold myself into him and have sex.
9 a.m. Seems like a reasonable time to wake him up so I can give him a blowjob. I go under the covers; it’s hot in there and smells like a sweaty man, and I love it. His dick is already hard by the time I put my mouth on it. I start blowing him and I tell him to come in my mouth, which is unlike me, but I don’t want to deal with the damn condom.
10 a.m. Now he’s going down on me, after I’ve showered, on my bed. It’s delightful. I want him just to stick his dick inside, but he came about an hour ago, so it might be impossible, and plus, I’m wrestling with the condom of it all!
4 p.m. We spend the day going to galleries and museums. We’re now starving, so we grab dinner at a bistro I’ve wanted to check out.
6 p.m. I’ve had one too many martinis and I find myself crying to him! I tell him that I hate that our “thing” has shifted. That I’m sharing him with someone else. And that we need to use condoms now! He’s kind, but he’s also not suggesting any changes on his part. I think he really likes this woman in L.A. … and I think the fact that I know that in my heart is what’s so hard for me. I feel like he might be falling in love with her.
8 p.m. I’m a bit sobered up and we’re home now. Marc and I have always used the words “I love you” lightly. I mean, I think I told him I loved him the night we met. But it was more like, “Oh man, I love ya! You’re so cool.” After that, we’ve just said it all the time, without any heaviness. Tonight, though, I ask him if he’s “in love” with me. He tells me he is, that he is deeply in love with me. I tell him that I’m deeply in love with him too.
10 p.m. We don’t talk about the other woman. And we fall asleep after some very intense and loving sex.
DAY SIX
9 a.m. I have a meeting with my agent this morning. He’s this snobby older art fanatic, and he’s been my agent for a decade, and I adore him. Over coffees and croissants, I fill him in on Marc. He’s always telling me to find a nice guy and settle down. He doesn’t understand my lifestyle choices. I have zero desire to live a conventional life, but I also want to feel grounded and stable. Can’t both be true?
11:30 a.m. I come back to the apartment and Marc is waiting for me with the French press hot and waiting.
4 p.m. We’re going to cook tonight, so we have fun grocery shopping around the city, looking for this and that. I have nothing at home, not even a nice olive oil. Marc buys me all this gourmet shit. I feel spoiled and I like it.
7 p.m. To be fair, he did all the cooking, while I drank all the wine. We have a delicious dinner: some fancy chicken, mushrooms, and a leek dish. We have candles lit, great wine. I couldn’t be happier. I’m trying to stay in the moment.
10 p.m. We’ve been naked and fucking for about two hours. It’s so nice, condoms and all.
11 p.m. I fall asleep while Marc does the dishes and wipes up.
DAY SEVEN
7 a.m. Marc is leaving today, and it leaves me with a pit in my stomach. I feel like this might have been our last few days together. Not sure if I’m being negative or if it’s intuition.
10 a.m. We decide to see a daytime movie. One nice thing about being an unmarried-by-choice person is doing traditional couple-y things every now and then.
12 p.m. We’re holding hands at the movie theater, and once again, I feel like crying. I love this man so much, and I’m not sure how much longer we’re going to last, and it’s all very poignant and special and heartbreaking. I have never minded being alone, but in the moment, it strikes me how lovely it is to have togetherness.
6 p.m. Marc gets in an Uber to the airport. We hug and kiss and discuss my next trip to L.A., which might be in two weeks. The flight isn’t booked yet. But we both pretend that it’s definitely on.
8 p.m. Back at my apartment, alone, I feel … confused. On one hand, it’s nice to have my place back to myself. I have painting to get to. I am physically raw and tired from all the sex. On the other hand, my heart hurts a little because I have no idea what’s going to happen with us. None.
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Alyssa Shelasky , 2024-04-13 01:00:10
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