Sometimes I wish I was a Catholic. That way, I can go into that little box of theirs and say, “forgive me, father, for I have sinned.” And then go into a tirade of how truly fucked up I am. What does a priest think the whole time he’s in there? Does he spend all day in there?
I’ve always thought of myself as sort of a douche bag. Or, as I told someone not long ago, a shit bag idiot! The truth hurts.
Of all the types of porn I like to watch and download, is cuckold porn. You know, the kind where the husband stands back and records. I hate it when the husband talks. It’s like, shut up and let her have sex! She ain’t interested in your asinine questions.
I don’t really get into studio porn. The women’s bodies are too perfect and their tits are fake. Besides that, they’re always dry. I can’t help but think that would hurt. How can anyone get satisfaction out of a dry pussy?
About five years ago, my wife went to a concert with friends and that left me alone for the evening. You would think that with the late afternoon and evening all to myself, I would spend it in a sports bar or something. Nope. Not me. Not this idiot.
I went to a truck stop I knew sold porn and bought a couple DVDs. I called a free phone sex chat line, got onto the male side of it and played it off like my wife was getting screwed. There were some who smart enough to know better. Guys can be so stupid when it comes to sex or anything sexually related.
I’ve posted ads on CL (now defunct), asking for men to fuck my wife and always received a plethora of offers. One year, I advertised in Detroit, Michigan, explaining that my wife and I would be up there for the movement festival and I was looking for a black guy. To my surprise, I got quite a few professional black men to answer. I guess perversion is not a respecter of race or social status.
I guess, with pornography, I use it as a way to escape life’s frustrations. I fool myself into thinking that I can control it. In living vicariously through a porn video, its controlling me. Allow me to give you a few examples.
A couple of years ago, my family and I were living in a second floor apartment. Now, with my boy’s autism, they don’t have the presence of mind like what we do when it comes to their health and wellbeing. Suffice it to say, that when they are uncovered at night and freezing their asses off, they don’t have the cognition to cover up. At least, they didn’t back then.
I have always tried to remain vigilant of my boy’s comfort level. If I am cold, odds are, they are too. One night I came home from work, and for reasons known only to my wife, she had the air conditioning on during a fifty degree weather night. Our youngest was just a baby and our oldest had decided he wanted to get up and sleep with us. However, our middle son, stayed in his bed. When I went to check on him, all he had on was a pair of underwear, he was uncovered and shivering.
The way their bed was positioned, it was right under the central air duct. I had a hoodie and sweat pants on. Promptly, I climbed into bed, covered us both up and curled my body around him as best I could. This made me feel so sad. When I told my wife about it the next morning, want to guess what she said?
“At least, we know he can sleep in the cold!”
Sweet Jesus! Are you fucking kidding me?!
And that is a shining, blatant example of the way my marriage has been. One tries to have common sense and the other isn’t even in the same fucking galaxy! Fuck!
Oh, and my other problem is that I don’t forget shit!
Last November, the stomach flu was going around in my family. And on the day that I caught it, my wife decided to give me hell about the women I work with being on my FB. Let me just say this about women in the medical field and friendships: they’re fickle. They hate one another one month and love each other the next.
Me? I’m an equal opportunity hater! If I don’t like you, chances are that isn’t going to change. Not unless you show me that you’re willing to treat others with more respect. I don’t care if you can give me the best blow job of my life, I’m still not gonna like you.
So, anyway, there I am one day getting ready for work, and my wife is bitching me up one side and down the other. I asked her many times to please stop! Can we talk about this some other time? I’m not feeling good!
Did she? No. She followed me all over the house, chewing my ass out. Her sister called as I was making myself some coffee and my wife mentioned that I was getting the virus.
I said, “like you care!”
“Shut the fuck up!” was her reply. “I’m not in the mood for your shit!”
When I came home in the middle of my shift, rendered useless by the virus, then she felt guilty. She apologized, of course. Too late. The damage has already been done. Its filed away in the part of my brain titled, My Wife’s Stupid Shit!
I could go on and on of how I’ve been misused and mistreated. But then I would be writing a book and not a blog post. I’m not saying I’m perfect. Far be it from me to so audacious. But I can say that I tried.
Those sound like the words of a man who has given up, don’t they?