An Italian Love Affair

by Lee Ann “Sunny” Brown

For some time now I have had the feeling that something is not quite right between my husband and me. I have suspicions that my husband is having an affair of the heart, and have recently found out that he is actually having an Italian Love Affair with a “29”-year-old blonde. She’s a sleek and curvy little number named, “Sophia.” Apparently it was love at first sight when he caught a glimpse of her going down the street and he chased her down and got her number.  It seems she was advertising herself like some sort of common streetwalker. He said he became obsessed so he looked her up online and got to know all about her on the Internet. I can’t believe I’m even sharing all of this with you, but I suspect there are other women out there—devoted wives and girlfriends—who have gone through the same thing.

I first started having my suspicions when I noticed he was spending a lot more time than usual on the computer, but would close the page whenever I came into the room. I would hear him speaking in what sounded like he was learning Italian. I heard him cooing in whispered tones words like “Pirelli,” and “Pininfarina.” I just couldn’t believe it. Then suddenly he just brought her home one day and said she was part of the family—like some foreign exchange student. Oh, how he babies her. Apparently she has been around the track a few times and has quite a few miles on her, despite her age. She always needs something, like a spoiled child. She is such high maintenance. For a 29-year-old, she sure does need a lot of upkeep. Already her skin has gotten old and leathery, with a lot of lines and cracks, from being out in the sun all day. I’m sure, and she goes topless, too. It serves her right! Now, my car has to stay outside in the weather, while “she” gets the protection of the garage.

I admit it. I was bitter when he first brought her home. I could just see her taking all of his time and attention, and our money. I resented him taking her out on warm sunny days showing her off like some kind of trophy wife. And she didn’t like me. She’s very temperamental and hard to handle, so I am not allowed behind the wheel—under one perhaps, but not behind it. Maybe she’s afraid that I would drive her over a cliff, since she is creating our own “Fiscal Cliff.” The amount of money he spends on her makes my shoe–spending look like I’m Cinderella, BEFORE the shoe fit. Needless to say, we do not get along. She totally destroys my hair whenever I do get to go along for a ride, and she tries her best to burn me up in the hot sun and ruin my skin. The worst is when she throws stuff in my eyes. It feels like she’s scratching my eyes out. It’s like being in a fight with one of the “Real Housewives.”

Anyway, I decided that if he could afford to have another woman in his life, more horsepower to him. I decided that, to be fair, every time “Sophia” got something new, I should, too. So, when she had to have special treatment oils massaged into her cracked leathery skin—spa treatment for me! New paint job for her—makeover for me! Oh, he is always spending money on her, buying her all these little accessories, so I was starting to warm up to her, I was beginning to like this arrangement. If she gets a new little hood ornament, I get a new bracelet; She gets a new little decorative name plate, I get a nice sparkling something to wear around my neck. And I was really happy when she got new shoes, because she has to get two pairs! I really do think that my closet should at least be the same size as her garage space. All in all, this arrangement has actually turned out to be pretty nice. I know some of you in this same situation may have your doubts, but bringing another woman into the relationship like this has turned out to prove to be a lot of fun, for both of us.

It’s true that she is still a little jealous. She makes it very difficult to enjoy any romance with her being too small up front, and no back seat. (she is a bit under developed) And he is still a bit too possessive of her. I blame James Bond for all of this. Make no mistake about it, James is really all about his newest plaything, his car, not Mother and country. All men feel they have a bit of Bond in them, and their cars are a way of fulfilling that fantasy, just like fashion fulfills our dreams that we are all a little Audrey, or Marilyn, or Jackie.

So, I have come to appreciate “Sophia” for what she means to my husband. I’ve come to enjoy our little threesome. I just put on my favorite pair of shoes, wrap a scarf around my hair, throw on my largest, darkest movie star sunglasses–and voila! Audrey and James drive off into the sunset. Ciao!

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