My wife had risen early to work out at the local health club. I was still asleep.
Since my car was parked behind hers in the driveway, she decided to drive mine. The windshield was frosted, so she began rummaging in my car for an ice scraper. When she reached under the seat, she pulled out a video—a porn video.
Not knowing what it was—though she knew by the title it wasn't work-related-she came into the house and shoved it into the vcr. Minutes later she ran into our bedroom. I awoke to her sobbing, "What is this!?"
My secret was out.
Before that memorable morning, I had been renting hard-core porno movies for a year and a half. The downward spiral began in college; I began regularly thumbing through magazines like Playboy and Penthouse. Marriage didn't help. In fact, it provided more opportunities to be alone, when I was on the road or when my wife was at work. At the depth of my fatal attraction, I would wait until my wife went to work to perform my ritual. ...
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