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We both looked at each other, for what felt like eternity, both knowing we had fallen way, way too far. The only words spoken for a very long time were “What are we going to do?” Both of our hearts breaking for the situation at hand.
When that phone call ended, my mind started racing with more and more questions. It’s been almost a week now, and there’s not a day that has gone by in which I haven’t thought about that night and all the unanswered questions. That’s why I’m posting this thread here.
Queer dating apps aren't always inviting, either
It wasn't that I was never attracted to women. I was, in fact. This wasn't new. What was new was her. I was fine with being with a man. I expected it.
I wouldn't beat yourself up about it. Why? Well, you were insanely drunk and so was he. Hopefully, you wouldn't have done anything with him were you sober, but since your inhibitions were lowered... Plus, he has an equal amount of responsibility in what happened. He might have been drunk as well, but it isn't like you told him to pull down his pants, and it wasn't like he was saying no - after all, he wanted to go even further than you let him. For a while it's going to be one day at a time, slogging through, some days better than others. You will have to decide if you can continue living with him and for how long, and under what circumstances, and for those decisions, you have help through a lawyer and a therapist. One way or another you will arrive in a future that was not the future you imagined. I had taken double the dose of my (prescribed) Klonopin that day as I was feeling more anxious than usual. The last time I took a large dose of Klonopin combined with alcohol Tonya deflects most of the water, showing impressive reflexes shielding herself by using hands and forearms as facial protection.The mention of visiting a swingers club (where couples swap partners for an evening) had come up a few times, and eventually we decided to take the plunge. We set our rules before we headed in, both extremely nervous, neither knowing what to expect. I walked in the door, trying to pretend like it was any other day. My husband had beaten me home, and seemed grumpy. I didn’t think much of it until I went into our room and the first thing I noticed was the condom wrapper on the side table. The condom wrapper from Sam and my encounter earlier that morning. I'm not in agreement that what she did was right. No it was horribly wrong. And yes, I have come to terms with the fact that she has had sex, although according to her not intercourse but yes sex with another man, but I may be more of a realist than happy clam. More of a ya know, in the now.
There was a lot of talking. I told him that although the love I felt for Sam right now was almost overwhelming, I wasn’t sure if it was a honeymoon period thing, or long-term. It had been a very long time since I had fallen in love with someone like I had my husband. He invited Sam over, and we all talked and cried together.The guy it happened with is gay and is one of my closest friends and we have known each other for years. Tonya has wandered over to the farther away end of the pool. She searches for something; meanwhile her bare thigh gently taps against the fourth step leading to ground. She finally finds her handbag, toward the left and resting only inches from the pool’s edge. She fumbles with something inside of the purse, most likely a bottle of perfume or some kind of compact. He softly chortles to himself shaking his head, which was a pretty corny couple of things to do after his repetitious joke, even making his nervousness more conspicuous by batting a hand . . . somewhat effeminately, in truth . . . toward them. Due to a heightened sense of self-awareness, he grows very solemn again. "Nevermind. Who wants to ask me to do what— Tonya, Lauren?"
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