“Paula, I realized that I can’t live without your dad. He and I are too tied together not to. And he said the same, although you can talk to him about it. To me, that is what being in love is in contrast to just loving someone. I still loved your dad after we split. But it wasn’t until I realized how I missed him and wanted him to be a part of me that I knew what being in love truly meant. Do you understand?”
“I think so.”
“You can love Paul and let him go. You can be living separately with you loving who and what he used to be. But being ‘in love,’ means you can’t let go and can’t be happy not having him in your life in one way or another.”
“Mom, right now, everything is so strong between us. I did as you advised me before I left for college and had a lot of fun there. In the last two years, I’ve had more sex than most women have in a lifetime. Probably more than a few women combined.”
Mom was still not convinced.
“Paula, when your father and I were your age, we thought we could live alone on a deserted island on love and coconuts,” she smirked as we both laughed at that. “But real life is not that. It’s bills and deadlines, responsibilities and commitments, kids… you know that kids change things for a couple, don’t you?”
“Did we ruin your marriage, mom? Is that it?”
“Don’t you ever say that again, Paula,” mom responded briskly. “You and your brother have been a blessing and the best thing that ever happened to your father and me. I never have, nor will I ever regret having you two. But… kids are a constant responsibility. And one’s children always take priority over other things. You have better not forget that when you and Paul have some.”
***
I did talk to my father later on in our stay. His version of their reconciliation was similar to mom’s, and I was glad for them. I introduced Paul to Garry and Marisol, but there was no reference to open marriages and such. Paul was too straight-laced for that from the few conversations he and I had about life. And at the time, when we were getting ready to be married, all I wanted Paul to be was a good dependable man for our future family.
“I thought you wanted a more open marriage and lifestyle,” Marisol said to me when we had a chance to be alone. “Do you think Paul would ever do that?”
“I’m not sure, Marisol,” I replied. “Maybe down the road, I can bring it up then. But things are going so well right now that I can’t take the chance to ruin them. Paul is too good a man for me to pass up on.”
Marisol gazed at me for a while, then nodded. “I see. Well, you had your fun for a couple of years and now are ready to do the conventional, basic marriage. Is that it?”
“Marisol. I think Paul is a good guy. He told me he loves kids and can’t wait for us to have a family. The kids will be Paul’s. So even if he and I were to join the lifestyle, we would refrain from doing so while getting me pregnant. I’ll broach the subject with Paul after.”
“And what if he is not for it?”
That question would come back and haunt me later. But just then, I just didn’t think it important. After all, I had gone out in the world and had my ‘fun’ before marriage. Hadn’t I? It was the reason why my parents had strayed and then separated. Paul and I had been with others before we decided to get married. We would be fine. We would be better than others.
We… I.
I would do it better than my parents.
Ah, the ignorance of youth. All the high IQ, photographic memory, speedreading, and college education do nothing to give a young person a looking glass into their future. I was so arrogant. So naïve.
***
Paul and I decided to move in together for the time being. We would get married as soon as I graduated in two years. That would give us time to get to know each other better and give my mother time to prepare a wedding. I made sure she kept it small. I hate large weddings. Plus, I didn’t want my dad in debt just as they were putting both myself and my brother through college.
Lost in our love and sexual bliss, we enjoyed each other to no end on a trip to New Orleans. We spent the day making love, then eating at small creole restaurants, visiting jazz and nudie bars in the old quarter. We frequented Pat O’Brien’s, a must-go-to bar and bought their commemorative glasses that come with some of their large drinks for souvenirs. We wanted to eat at The Court of Two Sisters , a pricey historical site restaurant, but we could not afford it. We made a pact to return when our fortunes changed and money was no object. In our youthful exuberance, we were confident that would happen. Or wishing it so.
After a night of bar hopping, partying, and dancing, we would go back to the hotel and screw each other to oblivion. It was probably the best time we had together as a couple.
But then the fairy tale had to end, and real-life began for us. When we returned to Gainesville, I found us a place to move into together while Paul started working as a cub reporter. All we could afford was a one-bedroom apartment with a small kitchen and not much space. But it was all we needed at the moment.
We furnished it with items and furniture my parents loaned us or what we already had. So long as we had a bed, a table with two chairs, and some cooking utensils, we thought we were set. The apartment would be our island to live in on pineapples and love.
With it being summer and most students away from campus, I didn’t run into many of my “fun” crowd. Thus, awkward introductions were avoided. ‘Honey, this is Bryce. He was one of the guys that made me airtight. And there is Kevin. He has a dick bigger than you, but don’t worry. He is useless in bed without it. And you know Jerry. He organized my gagbang last fall. Jill over there, she and I got together to do a girl only evening… once a month.’ Yeah, I was glad we lived off-campus.
I was not ashamed of what I had done. But the more I got to know Paul, the more I learned how vanilla and conventional he was. I mean, he liked oral and vaginal sex. But to him, anal was dirty and ‘not his thing.’ I planned to work on him to get past that. Yet so long as we fucked each day, I was cumming and not complaining. Still in love, I was.
And then reality struck. A few weeks after New Orleans, I missed my period. Oh crap, I was going to be a mom! I was scared telling Paul, wondering how he would take it. We talked about waiting until after I graduated to get married then have children.
“Paul, I’m sorry. I think I may have missed taking my pill the day after you and I got drunk….”
But all Paul did was stared back at me with this loving smile.
“I don’t care,” he had said. “It doesn’t matter when to me. Do you think you can handle it and go to college?”
I loved him so much just then. Paul was perfect.
I don’t want to brag, but it was easier than we thought it would be academically speaking. Studying was never an issue for me, so I maintained my 4.0 GPA well into the following year. The school paper wanted to do a story on the honors student about to be a mom, but I declined. The last thing I needed was all the people I had been with, tracking down Paul and telling him what I had been before he and I met.