My Vacation Hubbie

I have several boys around the country that I keep around. You know, for a rainy day. Boys who I’ve grown up with, boys I went to school with, boys I’ve slept with more than twice. They’re friends, but also more than friends. They’re people I can trust, and also have great, uninhibited, and stringless sex with. Sometimes when I see them, they might be dating someone, and if that’s the case we just catch up over drinks and leave it at that. Other times, we’re both single, so we catch up over drinks and then get naked and then I leave. It’s all very civil, you see.

One guy in particular has been not only a great lay, but he actually was the first one since high school who gave me a squirting orgasm. He has also been someone who is there for me, after all these years, no matter what. He’s the kind of guy who I might actually consider dating if we weren’t living thousands of miles away from each other. Silly circumstances always get in the way.

The last time I saw him we were laughing in his bed, sharing stories of all the idiots we had been seeing over the last few months, wondering why EVERYONE is seemingly so much less awesome than we are (we’re super modest, really), and deciding that we should probably just go to Vegas and marry each other.

‘We can totally get Elvis to marry us!’ I said.

‘Or IRON MAN!’ He laughed.

We decided that we are happy in our own lives, with our own jobs, in our own cities, but would love to have a companion from time to time.

So we talked about the landmarks we wanted to see, the trips we wanted to take, the places we wanted to fuck.

‘Just meet me in the Virgin Islands!’ he exclaimed.

‘I’m too poor!’ I had to admit, again and again.

‘I’ll pay for you!’ he offered.

Now this one, THIS one is a keeper.

And we allowed the fantastical plans to manipulate themselves. We marry in Vegas, so no one knows, and so there’s no pressure. We meet each other in different cities, countries, continents around the world. We spend a weekend living in a tiny bungalow in the jungle, a five-star hotel in a metropolitan city, a cruise ship in the ocean. We introduce each other to new acquaintances with ‘This is my wife,’ and ‘This is my husband.’ We explore our traveling dreams together, but continuing living our personal lives separately. We date, we screw other people, we always come back to each other.

We wallow in our hopeless romance.

And if we find someone we like better, love more? Well, then, I guess it wasn’t meant to be. But if we don’t? We have a beautiful real wedding, where you’ll all be invited.

Is this real? Of course not. Could it be? I’m not sure. Is this just us wanting to have our cake and eat it too? What does marriage really mean? Can we have this ‘trial’ marriage? A marriage that only exists on vacation? We’ve proven over the years that we can truly enjoy each other when we’re together while also enjoying other people. At what point do you decide that one person is enough? Is one person ever really enough? Are we just lonely and looking for that companionship sometimes, but not always?

He mentioned that there are certain times when he’s fine being alone, and others when he simply can’t bear it, when he desperately wants another person’s presence. I feel the same way. Do we all?

‘Sundays,’ he said, ‘especially on Sundays.’

Ain’t that the truth.

Listening to: Dawes – When My Time Comes