But I'm not in the mood and haven't been for a while. I know it's cliché and horribly un-French of me, but I can't close the deal. Maybe it's just my guilty heart, but I'm craving my husband, the familiar contours of his body. From the window, I watch as he saunters down the street. Hopefully, if there's no traffic on the bridge, I can make it home in time to ravage my husband and still get six hours of sleep before it all begins again in the morning.
I decide to blow off date night and go to a trendy bar with Susan and Anne. My divorced friends get regular time off, and, like them, I don't want to worry about what time I go to bed because I have to wake up at the crack of dawn. I feel a pang of regret as I take one last, lingering look at that adorable ass and wonder what it looks like without the jeans.
I'm immediately attracted to Josh, 29, who has a full head of dark curls and intense green eyes . The encounter feels dangerous, unexpected, and a little awkward: the antithesis of marriage, so secure and comfortable, with no real surprises. My palms sweat, I'm trembling, my heart is beating in my throat. I want to go home with a perfect stranger and experience that first touch, first kiss. Every morning, three sets of feet scamper overhead, screaming, "Mommy." Breakfast needs to be made, and lunch, and then people need to be dropped off at school.
I'm immersed in the moment, which isn't easy for me.
"Your relationship is one in a million," Susan insists."You make each other laugh, and you still have sex," Anne adds. " How about sex up against a pulsating washing machine and every other weekend without my kids?
I want that, and I want the cute daddies at drop-off to check me out, too.
In her late thirties, she's dating a hard-bodied musician seven years younger who likes his sex vertical, against a vibrating kitchen appliance. But the stories of unhitched bliss won't stop—even in 2008, divorce, it seems, is the thing with feathers. Gale, who lives in my neighborhood, found her inner Sappho upon ending her 15-year marriage.