Taking a year “off” from your marriage to sleep around with strangers; what could go wrong?
A San Francisco writer (that explains a lot) laments the fact that her husband doesn’t want children, and she refuses to “go to her grave without a child and only four lovers”, so that only leaves “boinking” lots of random people right?
Fortunately, for us, a book is being written about the experience; “The Wild Oats Project”. Being that our society ferrets out titillation like a teen boy with cable and a remote, I’m sure there will be plenty willing to buy the book.
The arrangement is unorthodox enough to succeed as a story, and in Rinaldi’s telling it unfolds as a sexual-awakening romp wrapped in a female-empowerment narrative, a sort of Fifty Shades of Eat, Pray, Love. “I wanted to tell him to f— me hard but I couldn’t get the words out of my mouth” is a typical Rinaldi dilemma. At the same time, she constantly searches for “feminine energy” or her “feminine core” or for a “spiritual practice guided by the feminine.”
So, in an “open marriage”, who takes out the trash?
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