My wife used me to play blind love box with my little sisters. I was addicted.

In the third year of my marriage to Sarah Montgomery, I overheard her friends asking her:

"Sarah, if we pretend to be you and take turns holding hands and kissing your husband, he really won't notice?"

Sarah carelessly smoothed a stray strand of hair from her temple, utterly unbothered.

"He has face blindness, he won't notice."

"But just so we're clear, have your fun, but don't sleep with him. I don't want seconds; that's just dirty."

For the past three years, the person I'd been dating, holding hands with, and kissing, was never Sarah Montgomery.

Of course, I knew.