When my wife’s boyfriend arrived at the restaurant, I started comparing myself to him before we had even finished the introductions. He was 23, handsome, fit, and six-foot-three. I’m 51, five-foot-nine, and carrying some extra weight. The weekend had been my idea. Feeling intimidated at dinner had not been part of it.
A year earlier, I had suggested opening our marriage because my wife and I weren’t having sex very often. She’s 47, and we each found another partner. For almost a year, both of those relationships stayed with the same people. We also kept them separate from our marriage: we had agreed not to discuss what happened with our other partners.
That arrangement had seemed to work for us. Our own sex life improved considerably after we opened the marriage. Whatever else was happening privately, my wife and I were enjoying each other more. I had a real reason to feel good about the change, which makes what happened next harder to explain to myself.
Last week, I suggested a weekend away with all four of us. We thought watching each other with our partners would be exciting. We booked a hotel room and arranged to meet everyone at a restaurant first. After keeping those relationships out of our conversations for so long, we were going to put them in the same room.
My girlfriend arrived first. She’s 44 and looks a lot like my wife. Then my wife’s boyfriend showed up, and the difference was impossible for me to miss. I even asked him how tall he was. I was already measuring myself against him.
We had dinner and went back to the hotel room for sex. I had imagined enjoying the sight of my wife with another man. Instead, I found myself watching her respond to him in ways I hadn’t seen with me. From where I stood, he seemed able to give her something I couldn’t. That was my interpretation, but it hit me hard.
My girlfriend chuckled at how loud my wife was. I can’t say she meant to hurt me. In that moment, though, someone else noticing her reaction made it even harder to hide from my own comparison. I kept pretending I was having a good time while my heart sank.
There had been a difference between knowing my wife had another partner and being there for it. Now his age, his appearance, and her reactions were in front of me all at once. The fantasy had left out how closely I would be watching myself, too.
Back home, my wife kept telling me she loved me. She was happy that we felt secure enough in our marriage to share this experience. Her affection was there; she wasn’t telling me she wanted to replace me. But she was also describing a confidence I was pretending to have.
I let her believe I had enjoyed the trip. I still don’t know how to tell her what it felt like for me. She came home pleased with what we had shared, and I came home unable to let it go.
