My Husband And I Broke Up 11 Years Ago But Kept Living Together— Even When He Was Part Of A Gay Throuple In Our Neighborhood And I Was President Of The PTA

And if that's not enough... YOU'RE HIRED! See the details on our four new highly-paid and well-respected editors and how you can be one too!

Hi Beauties!

I’m REALLY excited about this happening: I mentioned the other day that we (not “royal we” but universal-everyone-in-sync “we”) were looking for a new Beauty Editor for AJPT (“we” still love and plan to have future contributions from wonderful Sara, of course.) I did not expect that within the next 24 hours my inbox would be deluged with such incredible resumes, cover letters and pitches. (Can you deluge an inbox? Is deluge an inconsiderate word to use to describe emails after all these tragic floods?)

I have four candidates right now that I could hire in a heartbeat and I think you would be thrilled with what they have to say and show you about their compelling takes on all kinds of beauty, and of course, the best products (and cheap tricks so you don’t need to buy those products), etc. They are specific and quirky and yet speak universally too. I love them each.

So here's what I'm going to do: I'm going to assign stories to all four of them and run them here and then we can decide where to go from there – whether to have four different Beauty Editors or whether it makes sense to narrow them down. What this is not is a face-off or a contest or a competition. I am not pitting these four unique and individually genius candidates against one another.

I figure that taking on the role of Beauty Editor here at AJPT is very much a two-way street. Meaning the editor-to-be has to want to continue to do it as much as I want them to do it and I want them to do it based a lot on how much you want them to do it. So let's all work this out together, Quaker unanimous-decision style.

Over the coming weeks, we will publish features by each of the four candidates. One has written here before in other capacities so you may be somewhat familiar, two are brand new to you and me, and one may be familiar to you but from a different era (boy, have I had a lot of eras).

The assignments will be different but related and all of my choosing – because I'm going to go for my favorite type of beauty story ever that I think reveals the most about an editor’s winning personality and potential and is the most fun and also informative and useful to you in real-world ways. You will see and ideally agree – and after we run all of them, let's mutually decide who wants to and is the best fit (or fits if it’s more than one) to lead AJPT Beauty going forward! I'm making the assignments now and contender one will be appearing here as soon as they completes theirs. If you or a friend of yours or some Beauty Writer person from somewhere else that you think would work better at AJPT wants to still be in the running, there is absolutely time to get added in, so tell me here in the comments or write me about them/yourself at jane@anotherjaneprattthing.com.

Let the further beautifying begin! Stay tuned!

Jane

ALSO: Continue getting your own free subscriptions by manipulating your friends into subscribing here too. Even if you get three free subscribers to sign on, you get a month of full paid access for yourself for nothing. It's such a good deal. And we are well on our way to that next red checkmark, so let's help each other out here. Thank you for being so wonderful to work with always. And enjoy today’s featured story!

A candid moment from our 1999 wedding day. It was an unconventional wedding with flower dogs and a barefoot bride. Little did we know just how unconventional it would get.

By Louise Waters

The seven-year ache isn't a real thing. It's really the thirteenth year that'll get you.

At least, that's how it seemed when my husband Neil and I hit the 13-year mark. Our whirlwind relationship led to a house purchase after nine months of dating, marriage after 15 months, and the birth of our daughter Casey on the fifth anniversary of the day we got engaged. (Not too shabby for a couple of people who'd always sworn they weren't the marrying types!)

Turns out, we were right. We weren't the marrying types and after nearly 13 years together, I almost cheated on Neil.

I was spending a night alone at a fancy local hotel, something my therapist had recommended I do annually, at least. A male friend was attending a concert in the neighborhood, so we met at the hotel bar for a pre-show drink. Afterwards, the heat from where the outside of my thigh pressed against his lingered, even after he left.

"I almost invited you to my room," I texted him when he was gone, with the courage of a couple of gin drinks in my system.

"It would have been hard to say no," he replied.

“Why get the law involved? That's what caused a lot of our issues in the first place.”

Even though he did say no—he was also married—this illicit exchange reminded me what it felt like to sexually crave someone else, and to be wanted by that person.

It was a feeling long-gone from my marriage.

After our quick courtship which involved trips, concerts, meals at great restaurants, Neil competely changed about five minutes after we moved in together. The adventurous man who did a great job of wooing me reverted back to his single self, which was someone who much preferred playing video games in the basement alone over jetting off to concerts. I spent my time alone in the city where I'd moved to be with him, not knowing anyone else, wondering what in the hell I had done.

Photographed on our tenth anniversary by our five-year-old, confident in our status as a normal suburban family.

While it felt like a bait-and-switch, it wasn't terrible. We mostly got along, even though we didn't have much in common. Neil was always kind, although not the most affectionate. When I first told him that I loved him three months into dating, he reciprocated, but added that he probably wouldn't say it much. I punched down my disappointment.

Having grown up in a rather cold family, I was used to living without much outward affection. So much so that the closeness of a friend's leg was enough to make me want to cheat.

Two nights after the hotel run-in, Neil and I cooked dinner together while Casey, on the verge of turning eight, was playing in her room. Just a normal evening until I said, "Hey, Neil? How would you feel if I kissed another guy?"

He paused from stir-frying the broccoli, then said, "I think I'd be okay with that." Then he paused again before adding, "How would you feel if I kissed another guy?"