I slapped him once. Right across the face and hard. I'm not a hitter. I'd never struck anyone in my life. And then one night (in the middle of it) I found him on the computer, chatting with a girl from work. Chatting. In the middle of the night. MY husband. I leaned over his shoulder (which was quivering now) to read the content. He was so engrossed, he didn't hear me coming. And was I surprised. They were discussing a threesome. Good detail, I'll add. And that's when my hand made its move.
I'll give you a threesome, I thought, and rescued a Great Dane. She weighed 170 pounds and smelled bad, with an annoying obsession of licking her lips. She was a loveable girl, though; trailed us from room to room and slept in our bed. If the bed was an envelope, I was a postage stamp in the top right corner. He slept with a leg on the floor, like a return address. In better days, when we clung to each other, both in sleep and out of it, he said, "The problem with this bed is that it's too big." I fixed that.