Friend Request Accepted

As I've already made clear, I'm not, and have never been a heartthrob, but I've always been a descent looking guy, with a pretty nice physique, and I've tended to dress and groom myself in a reasonably stylish manner-at least I've never gone out smelling bad, with unwashed body or hair. Plus, my intelligence and humor have usually been something of an attraction for women (at least for women who aren't stupid). Nevertheless, it was something of a surprise to me when school started when I realized that I was attracting a fair amount of attention from girls at school. I suppose word was out that I was single (it was a small, private college), and I might have had newfound air of confidence about me (missing since Maria had dumped me), but whatever it was-it became clear to me that girls were interested. So, I started dating a few. I was still seeing Julie, but I had made no commitment to her-hell, we hadn't even slept together, yet. I even hooked up with a couple of girls at parties the first two weeks of school. I had a smart and pretty girl I had known since freshman year come right out and tell me that she had had a sex dream about me the night before one day after class. I took her out the next weekend, and she had me in her dorm and naked before I knew what was happening to me. I had another, kind of slutty girl ask ME out. I went out with her, thinking I was going to pop my cork for the second time in a week, but she turned out to be boyfriend hunting-something I wasn't ready for.

Anyway, Julie showed up at a college bar that I was at one night. I had previously declined an invite to her work party that night because I wanted to attend the big school year kick-off beer bust the bar was hosting that night with my friends. I invited her to attend with me, but she begged off, saying her work party was too important. She seemed a little put-off with my declining to attend her work party with her, but didn't say anything directly about it.

Anyway, she showed up around midnight, solo. She looked fantastic in her little black dress. I was at a table near the entrance when we saw each other. There were a few others at the table, but a girl was obviously flirting with me-and Julie saw it. She came right up to me. She didn't make a scene, but she shot daggers at the girl talking to me. The girl felt the heat, and thankfully, a friend of hers called out to her (something about doing a shot) and she beat a retreat.

"So, is that the girl you were blowing me off for?" She said, ending her sentence in a preposition.

"Really?" I said, tilting my head at her, stone-faced.

She met my gaze steadily. "Okay, well if that's how you want this, that's fine. I just thought....I'm going to go, this was a mistake." She turned to leave.

I should have let her walk out. After all, I hadn't done anything wrong. We weren't exclusive. Nothing in what I had ever done or said would have led a reasonable person (even one who happens to be a woman) think otherwise. If anything, she was the one who acted unreasonably jealous and inappropriate. I think she even realized that, although she obviously didn't realize yet that she was acting immature to beat a hasty retreat like that. I should have let her go, and waited for her to call me later. If she apologized and wanted to talk like grown-ups, I would have been willing to keep seeing her. For sure I would have-I really liked her, actually.

But, instead I did a dumb thing. I chased after her. Why? I didn't really know at the time-I didn't think about it, I just reacted. With 20/20 hindsight, I guess it might have been because I knew that, right or wrong, she felt betrayed at some level. And, I was very sensitive to how she must have felt, given what I had done to Maria. In addition, I knew that Julie had been involved with a guy before me who was really controlling and who cheated on her, repeatedly. She had told me all of that, and maybe I wanted to show her that not all guys were like that. Maybe I was trying to prove to myself that I wasn't like that. But, whatever the case was, I went to her, grabbed her hand, and told her that I was sorry. For what? Who knows? But I said it. Then, I asked if she wanted to go somewhere with me.

So, I abandoned my plans with friends to make up for doing nothing wrong to a girl who I wasn't dating exclusively, who barged in on my plans and acted inappropriately. I didn't think of it in those terms at that time, in fact not for many years-and I doubt she did, either. But, I can't help but think that it set a pattern for our relationship for years to come.

Oh, yeah. That night ended up with us in bed and having sex with each other for the first time. And, that cemented us as exclusive.

No conversation led to that conclusion, it just sort of became a fact. And, I really had no complaints. We had a good, if at some fundamental level unfair, relationship. I wasn't a complete pushover, but somehow, when push came to shove, I seemed to be the one to cave. Her social calendar increasingly took precedence. One thing I controlled was sex. She was for it, of course, nearly all the time when we got together-which was awesome. She was more sexual than Maria was in that sense. She really liked to fuck. And, she was good at it. She had what Prince called 'pussy control.' Her body was fun-small up top, a little big on the bottom, but she could use it. The ass was off-limits, at first. But, at much urging, and after acquiescing to a few requests of her in re: going to some events or others and skipping my plans, she gave in. I took it slow-neither of us had ever done it before, but I had seen it in porno, and read up how to do it. In the end (pun intended), we both enjoyed it. It became an occasional, but not too infrequent, sexual practice for us.

She got on me to begin my job search for after college. I was an economics and marketing major, but had been giving serious thought to officer's training school. I had received an appointment to West Point in high school-but had turned it down after getting a full-ride scholarship to my college. I wanted the traditional college experience. But, I always had it in the back of my head that I wanted to be a United States Army officer. Julie urged me to give that up. We were getting serious, and she didn't want me to go off to officer's training and who-knows-where once I was a commissioned officer. I reluctantly agreed. Truth be told, I was really enjoying my time with Julie, and I was falling in love with her. I didn't want to be separated from her.

At her urging, I kept going to a number of her work parties, meeting her co-workers and bosses, and she would forever talk me up to them. I started dressing more "grown-up," especially when we went out with her work friends (with whom I was spending more and more time). Next thing I knew, I had an offer to start with her company when I graduated. I accepted.

My parents and sisters liked Julie, but I never got the sense that they really loved her. Nevertheless, they liked that she seemed to be helping me to 'grow up.' They were happy to learn that she had helped me get a good job once I graduated.

And so I began my new career upon graduation. Julie's present to me was a down payment (courtesy of her dad, who had more money than I had thought), on a small house in a hip neighborhood in the city. The house was in her name, but I was invited to move into it with her. I had had some idea of moving into my own cool pad after graduation, but like I was going to say 'no.'

So, Julie and I set up house. And, I began my career. I actually liked my job a lot. I worked in the financial services/corporate marketing department, a sibling department of Julie's vendor sales management department. We met each other at lunch when we could, and sometimes met in the hall, but we were on different floors, so didn't see each other all that much at work. Plus, Julie was actually on the road for a few days a couple of times a week. Anyway, we were always glad to see each other once we got home-we continued to fuck like minks.

After almost a year of cohabitating, I got a significant promotion-Julie's cultivation of my persona at the company and my hard work and talent led to that. Julie decided to have 'the talk' with me. She arranged for a nice dinner at a fancy restaurant. She dressed to impress. So did I, in one of the suits that Julie had selected for me. After our meal, we were enjoying a drink, when she said she wanted to talk about us. I had been anticipating this, and decided to beat her to the punch. I initially acted obtuse and taken aback by her wishes for a more serious commitment. I told her that I was surprised by her feeling this way, that I needed to think about this, that it all seemed very sudden, and then I excused myself to go to the bathroom. To her credit, she maintained her composure, but I could see the emotion in her watery eyes. It was when I was out of sight of her that I hailed our waiter, and gave him the box. When I came back to our table, avoided the line of conversation that we had just had, and told Julie that I had seen the soufflé being delivered to another table, and decided that I was hungry, so had ordered two for us. Julie was mystified. I made idle chatter for a few minutes, Julie remaining mute and barely restraining her frustration and percolating anger, when I nodded discretely to the waiter. He arrived at the table with two covered 'desserts.' I uncovered mine, to reveal a beautiful chocolate soufflé (I had actually made arrangements for it prior to dinner-if Julie had thought about it, she would have realized that we could not have had them so soon after I claimed to have ordered them). Julie didn't make a move to touch hers, sitting with her arms folded-searching for the words to my flippancy. I urged her to lift the lid and enjoy her dessert. She said she wasn't hungry. I urged her again. Finally, she said "Fine! I'll have a bite, and then we're going!" She lifted the lid, and saw the box. She stared at it confusedly. I could see the wheels turning. She looked at me, then at the box, then at me, questioningly. "Open it, Julie."

With shaking hands, she opened the box. Tears in her eyes, she looked at me. I got out of my seat, knelt before her, took the ring, took her hand, and asked, "Julie, will you marry me?"

The answer is obvious. After the teary acceptance, I paid the bill, and we went home. Julie proceeded to 'punish' me with her pussy for the little ordeal I put her through. I was very happy.

We were married in November-it was no easy feat to pull it off in five months-or so I was told. I just sort of went along with everything, and let Julie and her mother, with some input from my mom, running the show. Hell, that's the way it's supposed to be, isn't it? I only insisted on three things: 1) the wedding be in a Catholic church; 2) we have an open bar (which my dad happily paid for-it was a lot cheaper than the weddings and receptions he had to pony up for my sisters' weddings); and 3) that we have a DJ and not some fucking wedding band. Julie was totally on board with #2 and #3, and finally agreed on #1, but only if her uncle, a Lutheran pastor, was allowed to co-officiate; I was cool with that.

The wedding was great, as was our two-week honeymoon in Hawaii.

Fast-forward five years.

I was just turned 29 years old, Julie was not yet 31. We were still in our little house in the hip part of town. We were still married. We didn't have any kids, yet (Julie had decided to focus on our careers until we were in our 30's, then try and have the two kids Julie had planned for us-preferably a boy and a girl). I was doing well in my career-I had had several promotions, and was newly promoted to a senior marketing manager in my department-the youngest person at that level in the company. Julie had moved up, too; and although technically I had risen higher than her, I was not her boss. We had money, and friends, and nice cars and a nice lifestyle. But, for a while I had sensed that something was wrong. It all just kind of felt empty for me. I didn't even know how to talk about it to Julie. The fact was, we hadn't ever been big on talking about deeper feelings-I loved her, she loved me, and we exchanged words to that effect. When we talked, it was usually utilitarian (we need to have the gutters replaced, where are we going to dinner tonight), or casual chit-chat (office gossip, family news, a description about a particularly good meal one of us had while at a business dinner, etc.).

I thought maybe it was just a malaise that was settling over me as I neared my 30th birthday. But no, it wasn't that. Maybe a seven-year itch? Maybe. But, it didn't feel like a new feeling so much as a feeling which had been there all this time, but was just increasing in intensity. I loved Julie-I really did. I treated her with love and she did the same to me. I really wanted to have children with her and grow old with her. But, it just seemed that something was missing, or that a crack between us was growing into a chasm. It was hard to put a finger on it.

I had been spending more time out of town for business-probably three trips a month for 3-5 days each. Julie, on the other hand, was now spending less time on the road. That was the nature of our respective positions within the company. I thought maybe it was the time we spent apart that was doing it, but I dismissed that. Sure, the absences were a strain, but we had spent that much time apart earlier in our marriage, and I didn't sense this problem (or at least not much) then.

I was flying back home from Baltimore (fucking Baltimore!) on a red-eye, set to arrive Friday morning. I had been planning on flying out Sunday morning, anticipating finishing our meetings Friday, then having attending a client-company party on Saturday. I wasn't looking forward to the party, but it was expected. However, our meetings wrapped up successfully Thursday, rather than Friday. And, as it turned out, the company party had been rescheduled to the next month-I hadn't been informed until then (damn my new secretary-she should have been on top of that; oh well, these things happen). I called Julie to let her know, and to inform her that I was going to try and get a flight out Friday. She sounded less than thrilled at that, even irritated? I prompted her about that, and she recovered, explaining that she had plans with her girl friends for a 'girls' night out' Friday, and hated to cancel. I told her she didn't have to cancel on my account. She protested that she had to, so that she could welcome me back properly (I had been gone since Sunday). I told her not to worry, that she and I could spend Saturday in bed to make up for it. She laughed and said that it was a plan.

So, I went back to my hotel Thursday afternoon, changing into casual clothes for the customary night of dinner and drinks with the clients. I got a call shortly thereafter, my main client contact had a family emergency-he was very sorry, but he had to cancel out on our evening, but would make it up to me next time I was in town. I expressed my concern, and wished him well. Since his number two had already begged off earlier in the day-she was visibly ill, but still did her job remarkably (quite a trooper) -I decided that I could cut the evening short with a couple of the underlings and maybe get out even sooner. I called my secretary, held my tongue on the party gaffe (I'm not that big of an asshole), and asked if she could get me out as soon as possible Friday. I got myself showered, didn't bother to shave, and dressed, and ready to go, when I got the call from my secretary. She could get me a 12:10 a.m. flight out. A little earlier than I had anticipated, but I did ask for the first flight out Friday morning. I told her to book it. I had a nice dinner with the underlings, and made farewells.

I was boarded and in the air when I realized I hadn't called Julie to tell her I'd be back so early. It was a little late to call her once in the air, so I didn't bother calling. The flight was uneventful; I landed, and took a cab home. I was in the door sometime before 4:00 a.m. I didn't want to wake Julie, much less alarm her, so I dropped off my suitcase in the entry way, and went to the guest bedroom. I stripped down, got into bed, and was dead to the world.

I woke up around 9:30 a.m., still a little groggy. I am usually an early riser, but my late night had kept me in bed three and a half hours past my usual wake-up time. No worries, I wasn't expected in the office that day anyway. I was a little surprised that Julie's morning ritual hadn't woken me, I was usually a light sleeper, and I had left the guest bedroom door open-and it was right across the hall from the bathroom. I was also a little surprised that Julie hadn't woken me, even with a sleepy morning kiss. She couldn't have missed my presence in the house. Maybe she had, and I was too deeply asleep to notice it. Or, maybe she put two and two together and decided not to disturb me. At any rate, I decided to get up, have some breakfast, and check my emails.

I went into the bathroom, and noticed that there was no condensation or any signs of a shower having been taken. That was strange: Julie always took a shower in the mornings-it was one absolute in her routine. After a light breakfast, I went to the home office (the third of our three bedrooms), and checked my email. Nothing important. I checked my work voice mail. Ditto. I checked my personal email. A note from Julie-"Hey baby, don't know when you are expected to get back today. You weren't answering your phone this morning. Hope you didn't hit it too hard last night-you know how I feel about my husband getting drunk while out of town. Drop me a line and let me know." Hmmm...that was left at 8:30 a.m. She should have known that I was back home this morning before she left for work at 7:30 or so. Unless she wasn't here?.... I listened to my cell phone voice mail. Sure enough, a chipper Julie left a message at 8:15 a.m.: "Hey baby! Rise and shine! I'm already at the office, the least you can do it get your lazy bones out of bed. Ha-ha. Let me know when you're flight is due back. Looking forward to Saturday! Call me."

I considered all of this. She almost certainly did not spend the night at home last night. But, where had she spent it? There must be a reasonable explanation for all of this. Maybe she went over to her sister's house, it got late, and she spent the night. Or maybe her parents'? Either circumstance would be unusual, but certainly possible. Maybe she went out with girlfriends, and had too much to drink, so spent the night at one of their homes? No, not her style. Julie would drink alcohol, once in a while to excess, but not on a work night. Anyway, she wouldn't go out drinking if she was going to go out again tonight. And, it seemed unlikely that she would have put something together on such short notice to reschedule the planned Friday night out so that she could spend it instead with me. And, she didn't sound hung-over in the least on her phone message. One thing I know about Julie-when she does drink too much, she has a raging hangover-you can hear it in her voice. On the very few occasions when she did drink to excess on a work night, she would rarely be at the office by 9 a.m., much less 8:00 a.m. Something wasn't right.

I picked up the phone and called Julie at work. She answered. "Heya, Julie. How you doing this morning?"

"Oh, great William. It's good to hear from you. When are you getting back?"

"Bad news, babe. I couldn't get a flight out today, until late. I decided I didn't really want to deal with a red-eye, so I'm flying out tomorrow morning, 9:30 a.m. flight out or thereabouts, I have to double-check. So, I'll be home sometime after noon."

"Bummer! I was going to cancel on girls' night out and spend tonight with you."