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The last time I was under anesthesia, I came to asking if they’d found any squirrels in my ovaries.
I’d gone under worried about what the doctor might find when he went in to tie up my tubes, so it was no wonder that the question was on my mind when I woke up. I’d joked for years that squirrels had been stealing my eggs, leaving me incapable of further pregnancies.
See? It makes perfect sense, doesn’t it?
When the lover went under recently, he came back to consciousness asking for me. He also used a small troublesome word beginning with the letter between “k” and “m.” Neither of these things went over particularly well with his wife.
The idea that other women touch her husband’s body is acceptable to her. She readily admits that she is incapable of providing for him; I believe she’s pleased to be free from the burden.
But she’s not so happy with the idea of another woman’s touch penetrating deeper than the skin. I suppose it’s frightening to think that someone else might love your spouse.
I’d like to believe that if the situation were reversed, I’d gracefully accept my husband’s lover. I’d want him to be touched in the body and the soul. I’d want someone to love him, not just make use of his body.
I’d like to think that I’d encourage this for my spouse, if I were in a similar situation. But probably I’d be just as insecure. Lord knows I have been over far less.

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