I just wanna say this.

Some of you have expressed concern about my "non-relationship" with Irish, or about the feelings I may or may not have for him and vice versa. You've read about similar moments between me and W, less frequent and less intense perhaps only because he lives across the country. You know - because I flat-out say it to anyone who asks - that I'm a little dissatisfied with my marriage, a little bored, a little frustrated. And in a sense, based on what you read here, you're right to be concerned. But believe me when I say that when I reflect on the situation/my life, I surprise myself: I never would've thought I could be this faithful for this long. And here's why:

My past relationships have all been dysfunctional. Try to name one where I wasn't the other woman, or the rebound chick, or rebounding myself. I've had the gods' giving out of flings, one-night-stands, secrets, lies, and illegitimate (or even denied) feelings. Before Lui came along, I had never been in a serious relationship where I was actually treated with a decent measure of respect. I jokingly prided myself on being a homewrecker, and I certainly never thought I'd have a "home" of my own.

I left for France three years ago, telling myself I deserved better than what I'd been getting. Consequently, I swore myself to celibacy for the year; consequently, I didn't go out and drink and party as much as I'd been used to; and consequently, my relationship with Lui was founded on a pedestal of extreme respect, the ramifications of which include the fact that we did not have sex before we got married, our mutual refusal to get drunk in front of each other, and my personal refusal to do anything kinky or experimental in the bedroom - even though (or especially because) I'd done most of it before meeting Lui. It's a slippery slope of this reasoning that probably leads to the ennui I'm experiencing now, but I can honestly say I don't want to turn things around now and go there with him either. This is the eventual father of my children we're talking about, and I honestly believe we're better than that.

Unfortunately, the former version of myself, though usually dormant, does make her way to the surface every once in a while. She craves excitement, thrives on having stories to tell, and, as my brother Joey put it, "has a flair for the dramatic." Call it the Leo cusp on my Cancerian personality, but believe you me when I say I'm a woman possessed by an insatiable longing to live at a higher frequency than that of the little wife. There are days when I wake up and wonder how I ended up here and when and how I can get out. (If you ever see a postsecret postcard that says, "I love my husband... But I still fantasize about him leaving me, or dying in a freak accident, so I can get my life back," it's most likely going to be from me.) This week's Grey's Anatomy and Knocked Up both really freaked me out because George O'Malley and Paul Rudd's character (note that they're both men) both vocalized pretty much the way I feel: once you're married, you're stuck.

With all that in mind, I consider it a fucking miracle that I haven't cheated on Lui yet. And it hasn't been for lack of opportunity - two summers ago, when I came home from France, I could have snapped my fingers and been right back on that piano. But I didn't. Barbie made out with two not-her-fiancés at my wedding. And I'm not judging - she can still sit poised with her head in the toilet and tell me I "don't have to stay" if she wants to, and I won't think any less of her or call her a hypocrite. It's just that, well, I kind of figured that if one of us was going to make a mistake like that, it was going to be me.

So don't be worried about me. Be proud of me, because I do see the bigger picture here. I get it. And my non-relationship with Irish is doing a really good job of feeding that other me, keeping her happy and sated, while I'm busy facing my real life and working on my marriage. So you guys have gotta trust me on this one - if there was any real danger of a real affair, I would be stupid to talk about it ad nauseum like I do. This too shall pass, and all that jazz. And seriously - what's the worst that could happen?