I'm cheating on my husband.
It's true. It's with a guy named Gym. Not Jim. Gym. Ah.
He's so close, so convenient. He makes me sweat. He makes me quiver when we're done. And the room we're in? Whoo-wee! Let's just say there are mirrors EVERYWHERE.
You know what I'm talkin' about.
It's funny. I thought I didn't need him. I thought I could go without. But a few times a week is what I need. I crave! And that shows no signs of letting up.
I go over to him. My cel phone is off. My friends don't know where I am. My husband, ha, he thinks I'm commuting! And then, get this, I strip!
It's true! I have special things I only wear for him. No one else sees me like THAT.
It all happened so quickly. I was going to work one day, and he caught my eye. Just standing there, on the street corner. Looking all fresh and new and oh so appealing.
Oh I resisted. It took me weeks -- maybe months -- to get up the courage to come and check him out. But when I did, oh boy! He, well, he filled a void in my life.
But yanno, I'm a little worried. My husband, well, he knows, actually, and he was very cool about it, but lately I've been seeing him hanging around with a basketball more often than, you know, most people do. And I've seen him look longingly at his running shoes. I wonder if he's found someone, too?
Should I be worried?