MONOGAMISH

I never felt totally myself being monogamous. I suppose a lot of people feel the same but can’t admit it. But I have no reason to hide.  

Juna and Kali are in their 40s, married. He’s a graphic designer, she’s a life coach. They are fans of my blog, always commenting with curiosity and praise. Then they start messaging me, asking for advice. I get annoyed with the back and forth typing so I suggest meeting for tea. They send a picture. I’m surprised they’re so attractive. A lot of my fans are nerds who don’t get out much.

We meet at Elephant and Castle downtown in the village, near their apartment. He is swarthy with a beard and beautiful brown doe eyes. She doesn’t wear her age as well as he, but she has an attractive face, with an eagerness that makes her seem younger. They are both unconventionally sexy. The first half hour they flood me with questions. How did you know you were poly? When did you know? Do your lovers ever get upset when you write about them? He leans into the table a lot and dominates the conversation while she smiles and nods and echoes his words.

            “What about you?” I ask. “What’s your story? Why are you so interested in my lifestyle?”

They get quiet. Kali looks down and laughs. Juna takes her hand and nods at her. This time she carries the words.

“We’ve been together fifteen years. And it’s been wonderful. We love each other.” She looks at Juna and his eyes get soft and watery.

 

            “But lately, in the past year or so, we’ve had less and less sex. At first I thought it might be getting older, hormonal changes, but then I would see a young couple making out in a bar and I would get wet.” She turns her eyes down again, at the word wet. “I’m curious about women. I feel like if I don’t explore now, in five to ten years, it will be too late. But I don’t want to jeopardize our marriage.”

She looks up at Juna. They hold hands on the table as though they are talking about a family crisis. Parents getting older and infirmed. A serious diagnosis. Their building being taken over by the mafia.

“And how do you feel about this?” I ask Juna.

“It’s a little scary, but I want her to be happy. And actually I’m titillated by the idea of us being with a woman together.” Juna caresses a finger on his wife’s chin.  

Kali plays with a brown curl, mouth wavering in a tentative half-smile. “But we don’t know, we have no idea how to go about it.”

I’m tempted to ask her, “What would you say to a client who came to you with the same problem you’re presenting to me?”

I refrain. They look so sweet together, holding hands, as if I’m their therapist and they trust me to help put the spark back into their marriage.

“Which is why we thought, you could maybe, give us some advice,” Kali says with more confidence.

“Do you do that sort of thing? Professionally?” Juna asks.

I could quote them a price and they would accept it. But it doesn’t feel right. Who am I to give a married couple advice? I’ve never been married. And yet they’ve never…

 

Juna has gorgeous teeth. Off-white, straight, narrow. Perfectly aligned. The kind of teeth I wouldn’t mind seeing up close. And Kali has the cutest nose. 

“I don’t. But I do play with couples sometimes.”

Juna’s eyebrows shoot up. Kali leans forward and lowers her voice. “By play, you mean…sex?”

I nod matter-of-factly.

“If there’s a connection,” I add, placing my hand over theirs. 

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