There were bands playing, it was crowded, and we casually struck up a conversation with a woman named Heather. He was tired, he didn't like the music, and, increasingly, Heather and I were focused on each other. I stroked her hair and kissed her again and said, "Sounds good to me." "Really? " "I'd like to stay with you all night, if you want me to." A few minutes later, I was standing outside the bar, phone in hand, calling home. Of course, just as you do if your partner isn't having sex with other people, or at any rate you don't know they are.
I asked her if she'd ever talked with him about having an open relationship. At a newspaper where I worked, my editor asked me to write a piece about a local polyamory support group. (He was married, but known for putting the moves on his female staff.) He was disappointed when I reported that the group not only didn't have any perverts, but that it didn't even have any members who were promiscuous. Most of the polyamorous people I know aren't promiscuous; they have more than one relationship. Or they might say, "What about the people who might get hurt?
"No, I'm having a good time hanging out." We got more drinks. See you tomorrow." The next day, I got a call from Mike, "So, did you get with Heather last night? I can tell her you got drunk and crashed on my couch." "She knows where I was," I replied. She doesn't seem to mind when he has an affair, since it doesn't make her doubt that he loves her and wants to be married to her.
She's really cool." "Do you need me to cover your ass with Anni? Powell clearly loves her husband; indeed, she finds life without him unthinkable.
Kimmel notes that in 1989, the year that —with its famous dismissal of the possibility of platonic intimacy between men and women—was released, only about 10 percent of his college students would admit to having a close friend of the other sex.
Things are different in 2013: "Young people today have utterly and completely repudiated this idea," Kimmel writes.