Mickey and I had a close bond. Our relationship was something I always found hard to describe with words. Mickey was the one person I could turn to. No matter the situation he never judged, just listened, offering up wisdom and love. He was the one person besides my wife I could have a certain level of vulnerability with. Even when I confided in him about experiencing same sex attraction, he sat with me as I mulled over my thoughts out loud exploring what-ifs. Make no mistake,my love for my wife is unmatched and I have always been attracted to women but there was a part of me that needed a moment to confess the thoughts that had plagued me.
Since Mickey passed, Dion and I tried to fill that role as best as we could for each other touching base when we could.
“Hey, man,” I greet, slapping him on the back.
“What’s up, big dawg,” Dion says, turning and dapping me up.
“Nothing man, I’m trying to get like you,” I joke.
“Man, stop playin’,” Dion laughs.
We catch up on each other’s lives asking about kids and work…but when he asks about Evie and I, I almost don’t answer. Dion and I were close, he was the reason I sought a grief counselor after Mickey’s death telling me how much that it helped him. Even though I trust him and his advice has never led me astray, talking about our sex lives wasn’t something we’d ever done before, but then again we’d never had this problem before. Taking a moment to release the breath I didn’t realize I was holding, I found myself hesitating before making the decision to confide in my oldest friend. I sigh again, and tell him what has been happening, in hopes that he could help me find a solution.
“Evie and I are in a rough patch,” the admission feels like a defeat.
“What you mean rough patch? You and Evie always been solid,” he questions, watching me with a concerned look on his face.
“Man, she told me our sex life was stale,” I summarize, not wanting to recount the actual words she’d told me.
“Stale?” he repeats, his face scrunched in confusion.
“Like too routine,” I respond with a sigh.
Dion continued to watch me, confusion etching deeper into his features as he asks, “What’s wrong with routine?”
“The fact that she doesn’t want that routine,” I tell him, hanging my head. “She let me know the sex was so bad that she hired a private investigator to follow me to see if I was cheating.”
“Shit,” he says, his eyebrows shooting up to meet his hairline.“Were you? Did you give her a reason to worry about you doing some shit like that?”
“Man, you know better than to ask that. You see, there ain’t shit in the street better than what I got at home,” I say giving myself a moment before continuing, “I don’t know what changed, but I guess life got in the way. After Mickey died and the issues at the shop, things have just changed.”
“Look man, it happens to the best of us,” he reassures, patting my shoulder. “Even me.”
“Yeah right, it happened to you,” I ask the statement coming out more harshly than I mean it to.
“It got so bad Michelle almost left me,” Dion admits, sadness entering his eyes. “It’s not something I like to think or talk about.”
He and his wife Michelle had been married just as long as Evie and I had. And the way they acted like horny teenagers not being able to keep their hands off one another always reminded me how I used to be with Evie.
“What y’all do to fix it,” I ask.
“Man…” he shuts his eyes, licking his lips, smiling at a memory. “I took her to this island where they make your wildest sexual fantasies come true. It was a wild ass time and it got us back to where we needed to be.”
“What do you mean wildest fantasies?”
“Anything you can think of they’ll set up for you, but they only take people by referral. Anything you want or need they will provide, but you have to be honest with them. This place ain’t just about sex. The chick that runs this place is really specific about who she allows on the island. When you speak to herthere is a certain level of vulnerability and open-mindedness the process requires. It is worth it though, I can send the referral in for you if you’re interested,” he offers.
“I don’t know about all that,” I shake my head. It sounded like some real freaky shit. Would Evie be open to anything like that? I mean my wifeusedto be my own personal freak. She’d pull out sex toys, set up roleplay scenarios…and don’t even get me started on the positions she managed to contort her body into. She literally tried anything I wanted. Evie had told me about fantasies she had in the past, but I don’t know if she would be open to trying them now. I think taking her to a sex resort would be a step too far.
Whether it would be too far for me or her…I didn’t know yet.
“Look man, if y’all are having issues in that area, this place can help. It’s real exclusive and real private–-if you know what I mean. How about I send that referral, and you can check it out for yourself and decide then,” he suggests.
“We’ll see,” I tell him, still skeptical.
“Look man, you can’t let grief and your shattered ideas of masculinity destroy the relationship between you and your wife. So what, your ego is hurt. She has stepped outside of herself many times sacrificing and making sure your needs were met–not saying you haven’t in the past, but why is now any different?”
We play a couple rounds of pool before I head home for the night, thinking on the advice D gave me.
