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I Thought I’d Be More of a Slut

Here I am, a widow – three months short of three years and still no bedroom frolics. Are you surprised? No one is more shocked than I am. I though I’d be more of a slut.

Even when I was married and heard about women divorced or widowed waiting years for “the one” I hissed to myself…LOSER! Often I accompanied that with a mature gesture – my thumb and pointer making an L on my forehead.

Now I do it to myself in the mirror…the gesture, I mean.

It’s not like I haven’t had opportunities – remember 23 year old Hector? And, there have been others a bit older than him, (well, it’s almost impossible by law to be younger) but still appealing enough to break the ice with, so to speak.

I never let it happen. Why? Why? and to show off my French “Pourquoi?” Well, one man was married…and I cooled learning this – after all I am Dr. Friendship and “the sisterhood” is all important. It certainly showed a lack of character on his part although, to be fair, his wife didn’t “get him” – the poor boy…

Without the help of my ex-bereavement shrink, Gene, who would probably shrug and say,
“How am I supposed to know?” I realized that once I have sex with someone it breaks off my last bit of being married to Jimmy.

But, this realization came a month ago. In the meantime, something shifted. I’m very in tune to these shifts because they occur regularly in surprising moments of “Wait a minute…I don’t need to hold onto his clothes anymore” or “It’s not really relevant what Jimmy would have done…what should I do?”

So, here I am – having another “Wait a minute moment – I think I can be with another man and
not feel that disconnect with Jimmy…or I can feel it and it’s time…

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