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And to round out my commitment to meet with five different men, I met the fifth and final AM suitor at one of my favorite coffee shops downtown. I knew immediately, before even approaching the table where he was sitting, with perfectly erect posture and drinking his coffee black, that I wasn't interested. He had recently relocated to the city for a new job, living apart from his wife and kids in an entirely different state.He was fully committed to staying with his family, but he and his wife were no longer physical in any way, because of her mental health issues and medication regimen.As my curfew approached, he walked me -- and his little dog -- to my car.I kissed him on the cheek, knowing we'd never see each other again.Nonetheless, I was immediately attracted, drawn to him as if we’d known each other for years.We drank whiskey and discussed the confines of monogamy. I talked passionately about my work, and pressed him for details about his confidential military job.
Not long after, I looked online to see what the website purported to deliver. I wanted to hunt without being hunted, and was afraid I'd be found out. It wasn't quite like shopping for shoes at Nordstrom, where everything is beautifully displayed and screams "Buy me! " -- but the selection was certainly better than the Goodwill thrift shop down the road.When I finally did feel comfortable to post a (faraway and sunglassed) photo on my AM profile, I was bombarded with likes and winks and invitations to view private photo galleries. I finally chatted with someone I found interesting. We had excellent Internet chemistry, banter that gave me butterflies - only then did I start to entertain the reality of an in-person meeting. But I felt little bursts of dopamine activate my neurons during our online chats when I should have been working, playing a game with my son, or going to bed on time. Or, he entertained my idea of having an open marriage. I shared things that I seldom discuss with even my closest friends. We stayed up late chatting, and he often made me laugh out loud.As soon as I conceded that I would meet with him at a restaurant midway between his work and my house, I also resolved to meet with a total of five other men. But when I did go ahead and sleep with another man and confessed the tryst to my husband, he told me in no uncertain terms that the “open marriage” was off the table. But for me, it’s not about a secret kink, an insatiable sexual appetite. He's married to his college sweetheart, and his wife became pregnant with their third child over the course of our friendship.Only then would I provide my real name and a photo. This was the closest to flattered that I felt, a form of reassurance that despite this totally inappropriate, amoral and dishonest venture, I was still A-OK at my core. We initially connected over a little-known but well-loved vacation spot.I continued with vague explanations of my extramarital pursuit, but was clear that my husband was the one for me, with no intention of destroying anything on anyone’s home front. In hindsight, I recognize “normal” as code for “real” -- not a sex worker, not a robot, but a regular woman. We once entertained the idea of having an open marriage. He was cute in a nerdy sort of way, and we developed a quick and witty rapport.