The other man.

I’m not having an affair or anything exciting like that. I know how it feels to be cheated on, and I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I ever caused that pain on somebody I care about. But having said that, I understand why people cheat. And I’m sure we’re all tempted from time to time. I know I certainly am. However, as the saying goes, “I love looking at the menu, but I always eat at home.” Or something like that, anyway.

I like to think I have a rich fantasy life, and that’s where the other man comes in. Yes, pun intended. Aside from celebrity crushes, which are nothing but pure, totally-made-up-in-my-head fantasy, my first boyfriend is usually the main player in my sexual fantasies. This would be the same first boyfriend who broke my heart. My first love, my first kiss, my first everything. He cheated on me. With my roommate, and it took me years to recover, as pathetic as that sounds.

He lives many, many miles away, and I seriously doubt we’ll ever see each other again. So like my celebrity crushes, my fantasies involving him will never happen, but they’re not so far-fetched. I tend to base them on actual experiences and memories, often laced with nostalgia. I may not know what Johnny Depp smells like in real life, but I do remember very vividly how Felix smelled. And no, that’s not his real name. But compared to the Oscar I live with, it seems suitable to call him that.

Don’t get me wrong, I love my Oscar, and I’m ever so glad that I ended up with him and not Felix. But I don’t think about my husband when I fantasize about sex. There’s no point. He’s my reality. Part of what makes my fantasies therapeutic is knowing that I’m safe to explore my dirty thoughts as far as they take me. And after I’ve played them out in my head a few times with somebody familiar but not shackled to me for all eternity, quite often I get inspired to try something new in my real sex life. So ultimately my husband benefits.

The end results vary, but I think making the effort should count for something. Kind of like trying to recreate your favorite restaurant recipe at home… sometimes it doesn’t work out like you expected, sometimes it’s good but just not the same, and sometimes it’s better because you were able to season it to your own tastes. Yes, I agree that’s a corny analogy, but I can’t think of anything better.