Single by accident, seeking for sex cure

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As soon as my divorce became official a few years back, I took a job working as a television producer that required traveling across the country with the show’s cast and crew. As I interacted with more and more new people for a few days at a time, I formulated a theory: The only way to cleanse my sexual palate of ex-husband residue was to sleep with a total stranger.

I was unwinding at the bar of a cheap, cozy hotel in the middle of America one night when a handsome traveling salesman started flirting with me: The perfectly clichéd opportunity to regain control of my sex life, right? Then I noticed his wedding ring. At the risk of wasting erotic energy, I addressed the issue directly.

 “My wife and I have an understanding,” he said.

Upstairs in his hotel room, we stripped off our clothes and attacked each other. We went at it three times in a row, and with each orgasmic round I shed a layer of the post-divorce blues, just as I’d hoped.

The next morning, my healer of a salesman and I woke up to a call from his wife and his guilty tone revealed that his marital “agreement” was probably one-sided. Honestly, though, I didn’t feel bad. I needed to get laid, and I was grateful to be cured.

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