Don't worry about your wife's ex-lovers

It took me a long time to understand why people told me I wasn't supposed to worry about all the men my wife slept with before we were married. That was in the “past” and “she’s with you know”.

It didn't seem all that logical to me - other guys fucked my wife - and I’m not supposed to care? Seems like the only way to not care is pretend it doesn't matter. Like all her (and my) previous relationships and sex didn't matter either. But they did. I’m not pretending mine didn't matter to me and it made no sense to pretend hers didn't matter to me either. (and of course, vice versa)

As I broke it down, two things became apparent in all of these discussions. One is that women and men think differently. Understatement right? But the reality is that this truth cuts far deeper than most care to explore. Men, whether they want to or not, unequivocally separate love and sex. Women, whether they want to or not, don’t.

And I’m pretty sure that despite all we think to the contrary, we can’t even pretend to really understand. We can only logically imagine what it’d be like. As a proof point, you think you defy that assertion right now. If you’re a man, you think you understand what it means to equate the two. If you’re a woman, you think you might equate them a little - but overall, you’re special. For as hard as we humans try to fit into the crowd, we refuse to believe we’re personally not unique.

If two people look at a topic from fundamentally different viewpoints, its no wonder they’ll fail to see things the same way. When you think about it, “but she’s with you now” is an answer about love. But is often given as a response to a question about sex (i.e. “I think her ex-boyfriend was better than me in bed”). To someone equating the two, its a perfectly reasonable answer. To someone who sees the two as separate, you might has well answered his question with the capital of Brazil. Its an utterly meaningless response.

I’m unfortunately a man and consequently I think men are right on this one. From my biased viewpoint it seems obvious that sex and love are completely different things. I’d also point out that many many people have had sex with people they didn't love and vice versa. I’d also wager that most people, if in a loving relationship with someone lost all ability to have sex with them (say, through an accident or illness), that they would not stop loving them. Equating them is a fabrication.

Again, if you view them as separate, you’re not even on the same page as someone who views them together. If women knew what we were thinking during sex when they say “I feel so close to you right now” they’d never sleep with us again. So we tend to keep our mouths shut. But I’ll give you a hint, it’s somewhere along the line of “given that we’re having sex, I assume you’re implying physical closeness is a major component of you saying that at this particular time - and given that you've been this physically close (and probably closer) with many unnamed dicks you met in bars, I’m really not feeling all that special”.

That leads me to the second realization of why my wife’s sexual history was a problem and along the lines of the text above, why she wouldn't get it. Honestly its because - I've fucked girls. Sure - I've made love to some, had sex with a few, but for a good bunch - I just fucked them.

When I bragged to my buddies about taking some girl home last night, they understand with incredibly few words all the ramifications. She had probably been drinking. During sex she got attached to me. The next morning I had “somewhere to be” and she had to go please. She felt used the next day cursing herself for being such a slut (her words). On one hand she hoped I’d call, on the other hand she hoped she’d never see me again.

Incidentally, I had no intention of calling. I knew 10 minutes after meeting her that she was good for sex and that was going to be about it. Twenty minutes after that I knew she was coming home with me and from the moment after sex onward, I was looking for an opening to get her to leave. The next day I felt great and willfully forgot her name.

In essence, I treated her like trash.

You probably don’t like me much right now. But I have news for you. I’m not special - not even a little. I’m every single guy you've ever met. I’m your brother, your father, and your daughter’s future husband.

You might think I could choose not to be that way. To instead be a nice guy - be one of the few that didn't do all that. Resist nature’s programming and simply love and be loved.

I thought long and hard about being that nice guy. It is undoubtedly the high road - but there’s a hook you see. See, some day I’m going to fall in love. With a woman I care deeply about. Maybe marry her. Maybe invest my life in her. Worry about her happiness and strive to do my best to be a great husband.

And all the while I have to hide what I know. Know that there’s a small army of dudes out there that filled her up with their cocks thinking the whole time what a piece of trash she is. My wife. My everything - the person I have devoted my life to - fucked by useless dicks trolling bars. I got the most-used version of her that any man has ever experienced. Most jaded. Most bored with sex.

What's worse - is that she may even remember some of them as superior to me. See, relationships either get stronger or wither away. I can be fairly certain that assuming we stay together, that after some time, I can count on being the most important relationship in my wife's entire life (and I in hers). That's a good thing - in fact, its sort of crazy to think that wouldn't be true.

But sex, sex gets worse. You age, you get bored - you get experienced. The best (if not the most exciting) sex you’ll ever have is with some fuck-wit in a bar.

So therein lies the rub. Marriage is ostensibly the time you enter the greatest relationship you’ll ever have. For women, that’s enough - heck, that's plenty. For a guy, it's not. You know the truth. If you're lucky, you weren't a nice guy and can take some refuge in the fact that you fucked a few girls in your time. Girls that are married now to dorks who you'd love to meet. Love to shake their hands as their wives introduce you and you knowingly smile that “yeah dude, I fucked your wife - and honestly, it wasn't all that great.”

But after your brief moment of glory, you go home. To your wife who has long resigned herself to married-sex. Who doesn't try things because she tried that (not with you) and she didn't like it. Who lays there and waits until your done because, sex just isn't that important anymore. Well, except for once in awhile, when she remembers. Remembers meeting that big football player in a bar and taking him home and having him fuck her all night long. That’s fun to think of now and then - that big football player - what was his name again? That’s ok - he probably doesn't remember mine either.

No, honey - I’d guess he doesn't.