Be careful what you wish for …


Did I just say “it’s what makes me a whore”? Did I just say that?

Astonishing, then, that it turns out my husband, at the very least, considers himself quite the connoisseur of the working girl. His interest in them may well have cost the family rather a lot of money.

I stumbled upon a porn-star pseudo-named email account on Sunday. I made note of the name and googled it later that evening. And lo and behold, there he was, posting in an adult worker forum with great authority on the subject of sex in general but mostly on sex with ladies of negotiable affection. He held forth on subjects including the most memorable place he’d had sex (one of which was with me, which confirmed his identity further), the pros and cons of reverse bookings, what he looks for in an advert for an escort, his physical preferences (he even mentioned a work colleague he’d praised in my presence). Perhaps most wounding of all, for some odd reason, was a thread in which some poor prossie asked for recipes to help her learn to cook. He gave her one of mine! My own delicious customised version of grilled haloumi with lemon and spring onions – offered up to a strange sex woman, like an offering – on a plate, as it were.

And when I told him what I’d learned, he denied it all. He told me it was merely a joke, a wind-up, with one of his old Army mates. It may have turned into a bit of role-play, he conceded. I remain unconvinced. I am even less convinced now that I have perused all 41 of his posts at leisure, as some of them contain  a great amount of detail on the booking process.

He has not said he is sorry. He did not say he loved me. He turned it all into a discussion about our money problems.

The night after next, he tried to have sex with me. I shrunk myself into the smallest of balls and cried until he turned away.

So what happens now? I will finish reeling first, and then decide what to do, after a bit more consultation. Many options — but I’m wondering if this isn’t my Get Out of Jail Free card.


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