Chloe

So, we started with the usual 20-line emails about how we were doing, how wonderful things were, a few innocent memories retold.  Didn't get far down the line before the dam broke, the torch relit.  All those stuffed feelings, all that ouch came rushing back.  As we talked more, I realized how numb, how disconnected I had become over the years.  She discovered the same emotions.  
Chloe and I were sending over a hundred emails to each other a day, from the mundane ( So, what's for lunch today? ) to the whiny ( guess what my idiot did today ) to the pseudo-erotic ( example redacted, sorry ).  It was wonderful.
Ya' ever go outside and play in the snow?  Your hands eventually go completely numb, you can't feel anything, so its ok to keep playing.  Eventually, you go, take the gloves off and everything starts to warm up again.  And it hurts like hell, going from being numb to feeling things again.
The problem with remembering that I loved this girl, now a woman, was that I realized I didn't feel that for TW.  At all.  I didn't hate her, I didn't want ill to happen to her.  I was just....ambivalent.  It wasn't a case where I had to fall out of love for one to fall in love with the other, I realized that my feelings for TW had been gone since the second year.  When I kept getting told time and time again that "We shouldn't be together", I didn't stop to think she might be right, I merely tried to figure out how to keep it together.  After all, that what I said I would do.
TW sensed this and it came to a head one Thursday night.  I should mention a distinct difference in our arguing styles.  I tend to get very quiet, calm and logical.  She gets extremely emotional, says things she doesn't mean to say and leaves when the conversation goes against her.  So it was not only explosive, but unproductive.  And left me feeling more in despair than before.
So, the next day, I emailed Chloe again, as usual.  Told her the story, as usual.  And, 4 months after we found each other, we finally agreed to meet.  Required me visiting the old homestead, not something I did often.
We met at a public park, luckily the weather co-operated.  She was nervous, as was her norm, I was unnaturally calm, which is NOT my norm.  She wore her sunglasses the entire time, as I remarked about her stunning eyes, a rather exotic super-bright blue, continually.  Eventually we loosened up, relaxed a little bit.  I kissed her, she kissed back.  We talked a bit more, then went our separate ways.  That was two years ago, haven't physically seen her since.
But we talk, every day, via email or Facebook.  Over the last two years, her marriage continued disintegrating and we've gotten each other through the tough parts.  We have, at her request, pulled back the sexual innuendo, the tales of longing for each other and the stories of dreams of running away and being together.
To this day, when I do dream, it is still almost always of her.  I dunno how much of it is based in reality, how much is based on an idealized version of we could be, but for me, she'll always be the one.
Geez.  I think I'll need something stronger than water tonight.

Meanwhile, back at the ranch....

A little about the life at home.  I ever-so-briefly touched on the history, but the current situation bears more explanation.
We get along OK.  There are not daily battles, no broken plates, no stone-cold silences every night.  Out with friends, we appear perfectly happy.  We're both pretty non-confrontational, so we just avoid talking about things.
After we got married, the sex life, which had been lacking, went even more lacking.  She never felt well, always wanted to go to bed early, whatever.  So, I did what guys all over the planet do - surf the Internet for its true purpose, porn.  Nothing out of the ordinary, no goats, no latex and whips.  I like women.  I like looking at them.  I hid it well, never when anybody was around ( kids in particular ), but I did it.  She found it about two years into the marriage, and threw an enormous fit.
She felt hurt and betrayed.  I saw it as a victimless crime.  She said she wasn't sure if she could be with me anymore.  
At the time, I took that more as the over reactive angry her talking and the real her was the calm, level-headed woman that was around the other 95% of the time.  I didn't realize that the real her was the lashing, angry, emotional mess that came out in arguments and the calm, organized, logical person I met and fell in love with was a brilliant facade.
I vowed to stop, she vowed to forgive.  Unfortunately, neither of us lived up to our agreements.  I cut back, deleted the few pictures I had saved, but continued.  I did make an effort, but I suppose everybody has to have something.  She pretty much decided that sex with me was now a duty, not fun, and it showed.  Countless times, the argument was made by her, "We should have never gotten married, we aren't compatible, we'll never work this out...", with me backing down and holding things together with baling wire and bubble gum for the sake of the union.
We were like this for about 6 years, her continually reassuring me that we were doomed, me convincing her that she was wrong.  If you've never done that, lemme tell you.  Its exhausting.  But other changes in our dynamic had occurred.
When we married, I worked and she worked, both of us making around $25k/year.  Within 6 months, we had both changed jobs, gotten promotions and were both around 45k.  She grew up rich, in a high-rise building in the big city, I grew up food-stamps poor in a small town.  Money is no big deal to her, she always had it, could get what she needed when she needed it.  Money is a HUGE deal to me, because I never had it and will do anything to insure my kids don't grow up like I did.  So, when she decided she didn't want to work again with the impending birth of our first, I assumed that it would be a temporarily solution.  After all, we had just built a house and we essentially cutting our income in half.  But, she convinced me that all would be OK.
And it was, I suppose.  It kinda sucked, but we survived.  Then kid number 2, and a new house, and she stayed home again.  My raises kept coming, but not quickly enough, and we seriously struggled for a few years, including a 4 year stint where I worked two jobs where she worked none.  I had completely convinced myself that it was for the good of the family, but hindsight being what it is, I realize my role was as paycheck.  
Ten years of marriage, and I would describe myself as numb.  Going through the motions, fooling myself into thinking I loved her, she loved me and all was well.  Never really taking the time to stop and look around.
But I was about to wake up and see things differently.

Greeting and Salutations.

First off, I didn't pick the name.  'Twas chosen for me by a muse to be named ( or aliased, as the case may be ) later.  I would have gone for something more like "The stories of a guy who is totally stunned by his success, because it never happened back when it wouldn't have gotten him into trouble."  But, such is life.

I suppose some background is in order.  As usual, the names have been changed to protect the not at all innocent from the wrath of the innocent and seriously pissed off.  I don't condone what is chronicled here, but I am at peace with it.

I'm a computer geek from a wonkin' big midwestern city.  Chicago, Dallas, Denver, Houston, Minneapolis, it doesn't matter which one.  I'm tall, about 20 pounds overweight from where I should be, average looks, am outgoing and was once a member of Mensa.  Have wonderful kids, a good career, and an abysmal marriage.  Yes, I'm one of those, a serial cheater, trying to justify his cheating and convince himself he had no other choice.  I'm not looking for acceptance, not looking for someone to tell me its ok, not looking for someone to tell me I'm going to hell ( I'm an atheist, thats not really a deterrent ).  This is merely intended as satisfaction to the voyeuristic needs of the muse and as catharsis for me - Having such a wild, depressing but ultimately wonderful 9 month stretch and not being able to tell a soul is making me a bit nuts.  Er, nuttier.  

I grew up in a small town, knowing I never belonged.  Dated three women in high school, one for four years ( a very dear friend, was at my wedding ), another a few times and then a third for a few magical moments at the end of my senior year.  I read somewhere that the part of the brain that stores the memories of first love is the same part that is excited by a cocaine addiction.  I believe it.  I dated, lets call her Chloe, for all of 4 months.  Easily the best months of my life.  Never had sex, she was two years my junior and, for some reason, some screwball paternal instinct kept it from happening.  You might think thats why the fascination is there, the one that got away.  But no, its more than sexual with her.  I wrote poetry.  Bad, bad poetry, but poetry nonetheless.  I was headed off to college far away, changed and went to the local state school an hour away to be close to her.  Of course, it ended because its insane to think someone as beautiful, outgoing, smart and funny as her would forgo the fun of dating in high school to settle down with some guy in college.  Eventually, I stuffed all memories away.  The poetry notebooks ended up in cold storage and I moved to a new state, and proceeded to nearly drink myself blind for about two years.

Apparently, the brain cells I killed were the ones that connected those stuffed memories with my current functions, so I got myself functioning again.  Got a job, started building a career.  

Skipping ahead a few years, moved to the big city, met a single mom, very pretty, had the look that works for me ( The vast majority of women I've dated over the years fit a look, skin tone, hair color, etc.  Rather eerie, actually.  And yes, Chloe is the basis. ).  She was strong, independent, had her life together, which I did not at the time ( I was about 25 by this point. ).  We fell in love and got married.  Sex was fine, not earth shattering, but I figured things would relax after the rings went on.  And yes, I hear the groans of "stupid" as you read that.

By year two, we were on the quarterly subscription and the script had been set.  Spoon, Missionary, Shower.  And about half as exciting to do as it was to type.  And the frustration grew.

A little aside here, a little something about me.  I like sex, I do, but I don't require it daily.  I do, however, require it more than quarterly.  So I'm not some oeversexed Charlie Sheen wannabe.

Anyhow, the frustration grew as she ( I really need a pseudonym for the wife.  TW, the wife.  Done. ) got more and more co-dependent and lazy.  I won't get into the myriad examples, this isn't about bashing TW, but suffice it to say things went south. But I kept plugging along.  A few bouts of counseling, a few heartfelt discussions, nothing major.

Then my 20 year HS reunion came up.  Everybody was on this Facebook thing, which I had no interest in until I got picked for the planning committee for the reunion ( I'm a music junkie and was pinged to create a late 80's playlist ).  So I though I'd hop on, find other people.  

Friended some people, talked a bit.  And then....Chloe.  There she was.  Still as stunning as she was 20 years before.  

More to come....

It's set up, you just have to write...

Okay, my darling man-whore, impress me.  I want to hear about those conquests and the online seduction that led up to them.  Details?  I know you asked before.  I haven't decided how much is appropriate.  I suppose you can go back and edit if it's too much?

H22