Just threw an assortment of expired condoms in the trash. It’s been two years since I needed any, and these have been kicking around in the bottom of my sex-basket. I kept them around I guess for the same reason I kept spermicide and morning-after pills–in case one or another visitor to the house might need to borrow them.

Time for fresh supplies, although I don’t see myself going shopping just yet. Honestly, I’ve really copped an attitude. Initially, when my husband said he was through with the marriage, I was holding out, resting on my hope and our vows–and the notion of sex outside of marriage didn’t even come to mind.

In the weeks since, I’ve seen that there’s no resurrecting the marriage and I’m moving on. But I still have this perhaps antiquated notion that until the Decree of Dissolution is issued, I am married–and I just don’t feel right about having sex with someone besides my husband (which, in case you didn’t notice, isn’t going to happen).

Now I know that he says he read on my blog that I had sex with someone and that’s serving him to justify his own gallivanting (um, I’m not sure where he read that).

But, like I said, it’s been two years since I had sex with anyone but Perry … and the way I feel right now, it could be another two years before I really need new condoms.

(I’m sure my book project will fix my attitude about that however.)

Photo by Merfam under Creative Commons license.