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I pulled the van into the airport lot and parked in the first open space I found. He still snuck special hair-regrowth shampoo into the shower, assiduously turning the label toward the wall, as if I didn’t know he used it. “We’ve been married for twenty years.” The fury I’d squelched over a decade of Marty ignoring me made me so enraged, I was actually spitting the words at him. And I’d sunk to that level and repaid him with unrelenting anger and resentment. you know, your settlement.” “Fuck you, Marty.” It was hard to keep my voice low now. I’ve tried so fucking hard to be a good wife to you. Keep the kids out of it, motherfucker.” The sound of a splash came from the pool, followed by Bella shrieking “Mom, heeeeelp! I couldn’t hear the birds in the trees or the jets overhead any longer. Marty drove out from his office to Southampton for one night, so we could break the news together.I ran through security, my Rollaboard stuffed with books rattling behind me, checking the time on my i Phone as I went. To my surprise, instead of being annoyed, he offered me a lazy smile. The repressed grin on his face reminded me of the expression my grandmother called “a cat with a canary in its mouth.” “Of course,” he said politely. He looked at me now with his Wall Street lawyer face, the expressionless mask he wore when he talked to anyone, including our children, his mother, and me. Suddenly, it was crystal clear to me: I never, ever wanted to be in a therapist’s office, our car, our beach house, or anywhere else with this man, much less naked in a bed in his arms. Which obviously would make it tricky to stay married. ” as the kids roughhoused, oblivious to the fracture between us. I willed myself to walk to the pool to make sure the kids were okay. With a kid on either side, all holding hands, we clustered around the glass-topped table where we’d spent many summer evenings playing I Doubt It and Tunk and other absurd card games.Instead, Leslie celebrated her independence with an audacious plan: she would devote a year to seeking out five lovers in hopes of unearthing the erotic adventures and authentic connections long missing from her life. The psychologist had given us an assignment: we each had to share the “critical success factor” we needed to make our marriage work.Clumsy and clueless at first, she overcame mortifying early missteps, buoyed by friends and blind faith. It’s a small business my granddad started that we expanded together.” He glanced sympathetically at a frazzled woman carrying a screaming, squirming, red-faced baby. As much as I hoped we’d make some progress today, I dreaded hearing more details from Marty about the ways in which I didn’t meet his needs.No need to think up excuses or reason — lake placid escorts just a case of finding someone who is just right for you.
He looked like he was going to spit out his coffee. Did I have the guts to ask for his name, or give him mine? It was the peak of summer, and we were at our shingled beach house in Southampton, New York.Packed with fearless, evocative details, The Naked Truth is a rare, unexpected, and wildly entertaining memoir about a soccer mom who rediscovers the magic of sexual and emotional connection, and the lasting gifts of reveling in your femininity at every age. Something I also couldn’t remember sensing from any man since I’d started having kids in my early thirties. Years had passed without his telling me I looked pretty, or that I was a good mom.The Naked Truth I drove along the sweltering Pennsylvania highway like a demon, hoping to make it to the Philadelphia Airport in time. “I’m a writer,” I continued, racing to head off an embarrassing silence. He had straight white teeth with one slightly crooked bottom tooth. I couldn’t recall the last time I’d complimented him about anything.When Leslie Morgan divorced after a twenty-year marriage, both her self-esteem and romantic optimism were shattered. I made my way across the lawn to Marty, who was checking the Rolex he’d bought himself on his last birthday.She was determined to avoid the cliché of the “lonely, middle-aged divorcée” lamenting her stretch marks and begging her kids to craft her online dating profile. We had agreed to meet here, next to the sliding garage door by the pool, because we needed a semiprivate place to talk as a follow-up to our last couples therapy session.