I plop my head on the fluffy mattress, panting loudly as I let the post coital experience wash over me. Something is wrong with me. I just slept with my boyfriend for the first time, but I came thinking about my ex-fake husband. No, it was purely coincidental. It's just the half bottle of pinot gris swirling in my head, that's it surely. Instead, I'm going to bask in how nice that was.

That was not bad, not bad at all. It wasn't fireworks but it was nice and efficient. He ...