It Could Get Complicated: New Relationship Energy

Later in March 2021 

Texting with Tarah only deepened my infatuation. This woman could write. Her words revealed her intelligence — she was booksmart, and emotionally smart, too. We sent enough messages to know that we wanted to meet, and while we worked on schedules, Ned and I formed a friendship at work. It felt like I knew him, and through him, her. 

By the time we met up at a bar, all four of us, it was like meeting up with old friends.

Tarah was even cuter in person. Rosy cheeks, perfectly straight teeth. A little nose accentuated by a slim gold hoop, dainty yet edgy, just like the rest of her. Her style is casually cool. She has a deep, quiet confidence. Her big hazel eyes watch you in a way that reveals her intuition. 

I was mesmerized by her. 

Thank the good Lord that Jack was with me, because I suddenly got shy. I do this; I get overwhelmed and intimidated and I don’t know what to say. But Jack can talk to anyone, and if the other person is cool, he’s immediately a friend. He does this by being self-deprecating and asking a lot of open-ended, thoughtful questions. He actively listens, which is pretty much everyone’s turn on. He’s genuine, direct, and fun. 

Are you thinking what I am? Yes, one of the best parts these dates is being with Jack. No matter what goes down with the others, I’m confident that I’ll be going home with a winner.

Within moments, I felt the contrast between this date and the others that we’d been on over the past year and a half. Admittedly, there weren’t many, with the pandemic and all, but we did squeeze some in the previous summer. We never made it past a dinner, now that we knew to watch for the slimy vibes a la Hal and Raquel. 

But Tarah and Ned felt like friends from high school. We’d grown up in the same metro area in the same exact era. In fact, we realized that all of our mothers had been pregnant with us at the same exact time. 

Ned and Tarah had also met as teens and got married relatively young. Their two kids were the same ages as our middle two. We traded parenting horror stories, and then we traded the horror stories about our own parents. We discovered that Tarah and I had eerily similar Polish Catholic upbringings; our mothers said a lot of the same shit and would probably also hit it off just swell, so long as we never told them what had brought us together.

Our lives intersected all over. How was it possible that this couple, sitting right in front of me, epitomized exactly what I had been craving in my life for the better part of the past two years? 

It felt serendipitous, but I tried to temper my feelings. I didn’t want to get ahead of myself, but this felt good. I’m not as quick to size people up as Jack, so part of me worried that I’d misread the room. What if they weren’t interested?

And then Tarah invited us back to their place to smoke a bowl. Their house. Where anything could happen.

Of course, Jack and I broke into conversation the minute our car doors closed. We had only a five minute drive to assess the entire situation. I was so interested, in both of them. I really wanted to keep the party going, but I worried about Jack. He has a “thing” for long hair; was Tarah’s hair too short for his taste? Jack can be quite picky, but I’ve come to learn that’s actually quite an admirable trait.

I shouldn’t have worried. Tarah had worn flower-printed Doc Marten combat boots that evening. 

Jack is obsessed with accessories. And when I say accessories, I’m not just talking sexy things like fishnets or collars. I can’t tell you how many times Jack has asked me to wear a hat or glasses or bracelets or nerdy athletic socks during sex. Headbands with my hair down or a long beaded necklace bouncing against my chest while he fucks me from behind, gazing at my baubled body in the mirror.

So if accessories are a fetish, that would definitely be one of Jack’s, even more so than his love of long hair. It’s like his brain focuses on the accessories, and then cancels out the rest of the clothes. Maybe this has something to do with all the time I spent chilling in a pool wearing nothing but sunglasses and a floppy straw hat.

Anyways, the accessories have to match, of course, and I’m not talking about colors. I’m talking about the boots totally complimenting Tarah’s vibe. She’s a little punk, a little Daria, introverted yet outspoken. Tough as nails, but with a penchant for old lady things like crochet wall hangings. Fun yet practical. Whimsical, but if you piss her off she won’t waste a moment to tell you about it.

So. Pink roses printed on black Docs. Jack was sold. 

Still, we had a first date rule, as in, no sex with new friends on the first date. We’d adopted it from one of the many swinger podcasts that we’d listened to over the pandemic. It was intended to make us really talk about things, to reflect and make sure we were really interested. It made a lot of sense for two new suburbanites who’d only discovered swinging in the past couple years, but…we had also started to shift a little. 

Remember, I’d been talking to Ned at work for a solid month before this date. I’m talking four days a week for about four weeks, talking maybe five minutes a day at first and then increasing to sometimes as much as thirty minutes. Ned had become another friend at work — and a flirty one at that. So this didn’t really count as a first date with him; we were already well acquainted.

The swinger podcasters were all about the rules. Jack and I were realizing that breaking the rules of monogamy meant making our own rules, not adopting someone else’s. We could design whatever we wanted for our relationship, remember? If we wanted to do something on the first date, and it felt right, we decided we would. 

Tarah and Ned were feeling pretty good to us. It only got better when we got back to their house and smoked a bowl with them. We revealed deep truths about our kids and our health and our abilities, personal stuff that’s too much for me to reveal in a book about my sex life. We ogled over Ned’s pole barn and danced on Tarah’s stripper pole. Tarah and I got the giggles playing billiards, badly, while the guys looked on with hungry eyes. 

At one point, she and I turned to each other and revealed a new truth, one we both felt. We felt something. And it felt good. 

It’s a feeling that when you know, you know. It’s a feeling that I don’t get a lot. Only a few people have ever seen me with my guard down, in my own authentic skin, being in the moment and enjoying the present company. Jack is one. 

Tarah became another.

It was like being with Jack, but she had my personality. It was like being alone, but better. It was the same feeling of fun that I’d had playing with my cousins as a kid. It was like talking to my sister.

Except that she was also drop dead gorgeous and I had a desire to run my fingers down her smooth, skinny arms and run my hand through her soft blonde hair. So not quite like a sister.

If I had to pin it on a moment, I’d say that I fell for Tarah while giggling with her across the pool table. Fell how, you ask? I do love Tarah, but we’re not in love. It didn’t quite turn out like that — it turned out better. You’ll see.

Jack could sense that something special was happening here, too, but his response was tinged with a slight aura of overwhelm, his weed high mixing with this new sexual high. There were several points in the night when I locked eyes with him and could practically hear his erection swelling with consent. 

But as we sobered up, the conversation turned serious and the eroticism of the situation lessened. Tarah brought up logistics — people’s feelings get hurt in this game, she told us. And still, after all of our philosophical discussions…Jack and I were still thinking we were impervious to the whims of our emotions. We eschewed feelings and assured them that we were looking for friends with benefits. Friends and sex, no feelings, as if we were so talented as to be able to choose to contain our feelings in perfectly sized compartments of the heart. 

Tarah brought up the work situation, but Ned and I waved her away. “We’re adults,” Ned said, and let’s all pause to appreciate the foreshadowing I’m about to present. “I’ll just avoid Lizzie’s department if it doesn’t work out.” 

My response was equally blithe and chalk full of premonition. “I’ve been dying to switch buildings. I’ll leave. I volunteer as tribute.”

Jack affably agreed with me, but Tarah doubled down. “It could get complicated.”

I suppose that was reason enough to tip Jack’s scales. Sometimes when he gets high, he gets a little paranoid, and Tarah’s weed was strong. In a very direct, polite Jack-like way, he straight up told them that he didn’t want to have sex tonight. In the future, yes, but tonight he was too high and too tired. Jack may push the limits, but he is also very aware of his own.

They seemed to take this well, until I overheard Ned and Jack cleaning up the kitchen while I packed up in the mudroom. “We don’t get kid free nights like this very often,” I heard Ned telling him. 

Well, that sounded weird, and then it felt a little weird when Ned came to hug me good night. “Next time,” he whispered into my ear. 

I got awkward, being me. I pulled away and said something lame; I felt equally flattered and threatened. Either way, it was a burst of dopamine. Behold another bout of foreshadowing.

As soon as our van doors closed behind us and we backed out of their driveway, Jack and I jumped into our evaluation of the night.

Jack was worried that he’d blown it by turning them down. 

“I think they like us,” I reassured, jumping into exposition about all the signs I’d seen. And then I got philosophical, saying something like “I think, ultimately, that if they’re turned off by us not wanting to fool around tonight, they’re not good for us anyways. They need to respect our decision if they’re going to be the kinds of friends we want.” This may have been the last shred of sanity I’d have regarding Ned for months to come.

Jack processed this while his head bobbed to the music. Then he kissed my hand. “You’re right,” he said. 

I was used to being right, before I was wrong about Ned. 

We hadn’t stayed up that late in years, since well before the pandemic. It was past 3am by the time we settled into bed, having culminated the evening with our own private fuck session. 

The next day we were exhausted, because having four kids means you never get to sleep in. So we did what any parents in our situation would do — put all the kids on electronics — and then we crawled back into bed, where we spent the rest of the day. 

How was it that I suddenly felt more in love with Jack than I had in years? Yes, I was crushing on Ned and maybe now even a touch on Tarah. I was invigorated that we’d found a couple we both liked and wanted to spend time with, and yes, have sex with. 

And yet, it wasn’t fantasies of Ned and Tarah that raced through my mind as Jack and I spent a good portion of that afternoon making out like teenagers. It wasn’t Ned’s body that I was thinking about as I touched Jack’s pecs, Jack’s biceps, Jack’s abs, Jack’s cock, all with newfound admiration. I felt alive in the same way that Lauren and Ryan had made us feel back when they hit on us in Jamaica. I felt drawn to Jack like I had back in high school and college. I found myself looking at him as if he was the one who was new to me. 

I felt more separate from Jack than I had in years, too. I realized that we each had our separate sexual agendas. We had separate needs and wants, and instead of feeling divisive, this felt alluring. Jack and I weren’t the same. Jack was his own man, and quite a man at that. He was protective, but not possessive. He was going to make sure that we were safe. He desired me, but he also respected that I was drawn to others, too. I felt myself eager to repay his respect and care. And kisses.

Was I still high? I was, in a way, on NRE — New Relationship Energy. It’s like a drug, and some people do get addicted to it. Thing is, it’s a bitch. I don’t have time for it, I’d eventually learn, and I hope to avoid it in the foreseeable future. It really fucked me up. 

But at that moment, in bed with Jack, I didn’t care if I was still high on weed or NRE or life. I just snuggled closer to Jack, catnapped for a spell, and then woke up to run my fingers along the stubble of his beard yet again. He rewarded me with a passionate kisses, his muscular arms pulling me closer. I was so aroused. 

Jack jumped up to quietly close and lock our bedroom door, not wanting to draw the kids’ attention. Then he came back into bed and made love to me. Gentle, slow love. Savoring each kiss, each stroke, each touch. When was the last time that we’d had sex with this much passion and purpose? This was romance. I felt this.

We were feeling awake, refreshed, alive. Life had been on pause, but now it was revived. 

And it was all because of Ned and Tarah. We needed to see them again.