Sigh.

Try on one of those little outfits, he suggests, maybe demands.
Which one? I question in a coy little voice that is so obviously out of character.
And so I slowly undress, carefully folding my clothes as I remove them, silently slipping out something black and lacy from a drawer. That little costume only lasted for a few moments as I climbed on top of him and looked him deeply in the eye with an expression I hoped was questioning.

Things tonight progressed much more quickly than last evening. There was less talking, no real debating right and wrong as if he was a man who had spent all day thinking about exactly what he wanted. I was glad to give it to him if only because there is something comforting to be found in the touch of a former lover and friend. My body remembering exactly how to yield to his, the familiarity of knowing which move came next. Kind of the like the feeling of walking in your own front door after a long vacation, something like relief.

Afterward, I tried not to think about her or their impending nuptials. I tried not to reconcile how he could claim to wholly and completely love two women at once, not even attempting to reweave my own rather lax measures of morality to accommodate his assertion. Not that any of what he said mattered. I felt bad for him, I really did. I'm not so sure I could make such a life choice without being one hundred percent certain. But maybe that's why he was here. If he was looking for an out, an excuse, I would not be the one giving it to him.

He asked me what my perfect world would be like and if he'd be in it. I told him I didn't know because I can't believe in perfection.

Soon after, he left. I wondered if he would call her to say goodnight. I was overcome by sadness, not for myself but because he seemed so lost, adrift in a sea of expectations he is unwilling to fulfill.