Category Archives: Relationships
When The Marriage Has Given Up On You
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The majority of people who read this blog don’t have the historical knowledge of my life and, particularly, my marriage. So, for the benefit of the majority of you, I’ll give you a bit of a crash course and try to not make this post too heady.
We’ve been together for 17 years and married for 8 years of that. We have three kids, two of whom are 18+ and the youngest is in high school.
(Right about now, you are maybe doing some math to figure out how old I am… I’ll help you out, we both started families when we were young.)
She’s a person who believes firmly that if a little of something is good then more is always better. This is a common theme that I’ve observed over time and, because of this tendency, she often steamrolls into (and through) situations making decisions contrary to what most people would regard as common sense. In doing this, she has gotten herself into hot water over and over again. Consequences of these poor decisions range from significant financial setbacks for the family to questionable parenting episodes to her personal safety being in serious jeopardy.
In the vast majority of these situations, I’ve stepped in to pluck her from the fire because… well, that’s just what you do for your spouse and your family. Often, this comes at your own personal cost and is done thanklessly. I know this just as well as anyone who has found themselves in this role.
Now, fast forward to present day.
You don’t have to scroll back very far in this blog to see that I’ve had struggles with alcohol. Drinking became a coping mechanism to compensate for my inability to cope with stress and loneliness. My relationship with the bottle finally culminated into me having a grand mal seizure while at work and being taken to the hospital.
It was at this time, while laying on a hospital bed and freshly swearing off booze, that my wife told me if I were to start drinking again… she was going to leave me.
Going back a few posts in this blog, you’ll note that I dabbled with alcohol again. I’m the type of guy that lives by the adage ‘never say never’ so I generally don’t close a door on any possibility. I felt like I needed to convince myself that, indeed, I had to close the door on my drinking past and walk away.
This didn’t go by unnoticed, of course. My wife had no clue since we have been working opposite schedules for years now and rarely see each other. However, my youngest teenage son did notice and finally said something to her a few weeks ago. The very next day, she confronted me and said that she was leaving; stating that I’d had started drinking again that she couldn’t live with it anymore.
Given the fact that we rarely see each other and that she admitted that she hadn’t even noticed, this statement felt disingenuous and the situation was being used as an excuse or, worse, an opportunity.
Throughout this past ten months, I’ve felt angry and bitter toward my immediate family that there has been little to no support for me staying sober. I also feel that there has been little to no effort made by them to understand or appreciate how hard this is. So, this past ten months has felt like a gigantic slap in the face that highlights how unappreciated I’ve been for the previous 16+ years of bailing this family, and particularly my wife, out of trouble over and over again.
Now, my natural tendency is to try to inject humour wherever I can and especially when it’s a painful subject for me. So, when I was reflecting on it at the end of a work day immediately following that weekend confrontation, I related this entire scene to an episode of The Simpsons. The episode in question is titled ‘$pringfield (or How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love Legalized Gambling)’ where Mr. Burns opens a casino in Springfield and Marge ends up developing a gambling addiction.
Homer: You know, Marge, for the first time in our marriage I can finally look down my nose at you.You have a gambling problem!
Marge: That’s true. Will you forgive me?
Homer: Oh, sure! Remember when I got caught stealing all those watches from Sears?
Marge: [ Groans ]
Homer: Well, that’s nothing, because you have a gambling problem! And remember when I let that escaped lunatic in the house ’cause he was dressed like Santa Claus?
Marge: [ Groans ]
Homer: Well, you have a gambling problem!
The writers pretty much hit the nail on the head with this episode. I’m feeling a lot like Marge here. And my wife has been Homer for our entire marriage and I’ve never noticed it.
Maybe this is why she hates The Simpsons.
Father’s Day Summed Up
https://youtu.be/w7d8p41PlWQ
Haiku 1
I’m just a paycheque
I have no value beyond
My account balance
Revenge Is A Dish Best Served Cold (And Unwashed)
There are many reasons why parents are excited about their teenagers growing up and moving out. For me, one thing that I am really going to enjoy about my kids moving out onto their own will be visiting them and spending the afternoon or evening in their place doing something with them like watching sports on TV.
While I’m there, I will go into their cupboards, get a glass and fill it to the top with milk or juice or whatever they are keeping in their fridge at the time. I will then drink precisely half of the beverage in the glass and leave the half full glass (or half empty depending on your perspective) somewhere within their apartment or house. Maybe on the counter… maybe on the table… maybe on the living room carpet next to the sofa. Basically, anywhere except inside the dishwasher or the kitchen sink.
Throughout the afternoon or evening, I will repeat this process over and over until I’ve used all of their glasses and have to move on to their hodgepodge set of random coffee mugs. And then I will do the same with their coffee mugs, leaving them partially full of liquid and strewn wherever I absentmindedly please.
It will be hard for me to contain my wicked giggle but I will do it until I’ve used every dish that could potentially hold a drink, even the measuring cups. And then, I will bid them good evening and head home… leaving them to clean up after me for a change.
Languid Beauty Over Black Water
I wish I knew what was going on. She has gone dark, hiding herself from me for reasons that I think are a matter of conscience and external pressure.
He doesn’t love her. He doesn’t even want to try and understand her; never mind appreciate her. I know she isn’t doing this off her own volition but, rather, as a matter of oppression from a man who would as soon relate to her with the same compassion he would offer to a random animal meant for slaughter.
I love her. And hate him.
A Second Time
This was originally written on March 9, 2008 and was posted at 10:54 pm on that night.
I haven’t been able to decide whether it’s fitting or ironic that I’m sitting on an airplane operated by United Airways. It’s taking me further and further away from the woman I love with every passing second. It’s separating us, rather than uniting us. On the other hand, being able to spend a whole weekend together managed to unite us in ways I didn’t predict. Obviously, I’m torn.
I guess maybe it depends on where I want to place my focus; on the time we spent together or having to leave. While I believe it’s important to take some time to mourn our parting, I prefer to place more of my focus on how our limbs intertwined while naked in bed or her beautiful eyes and sparkling lips or being able to have coffee and talk about literature and our pasts.
We had two days and two nights together. We tried to do everything together; things we had long dreamed of. We showered together, I watched her put on her make up (like I always do), we had breakfast together, we openly kissed and hugged and laughed. To anyone else, we could have been your average married couple on the town. No one would have known the wiser so we took advantage and blatantly stole kisses at every opportunity. I loved waking up at her side, watching her peaceful face lie still against the backdrop of a sheer white curtain in the window. I loved pressing my body against hers as we slept; not having to fear my hands being pushed away or rejected.
And, of course, we made love. At every opportunity we could take, we were undressing each other and pleasuring each other. The room resounded with her moans of pleasure and I grew very familiar with her gritting her teeth and bearing down on my cock. I buried my face in her neck and smelled her perfume, letting it fill my nostrils and intoxicate my mind. I kissed her soft lips and ran my hands over her incredibly soft body.
Coincidentally, Evey’s friends happened to be in the area and we met up with them for dinner and drinks. They all know Evey and her husband very well and they understand, all too well, their situation. It was a little awkward for both of us; two of her worlds were colliding and for me, conversations that involved her husband made me feel invisible or temporary. No one was trying to make me feel this way; in fact they were very understanding and accepting.
I feel really quite sad at pondering Evey’s situation and my role in it. Leaving her today made me feeling like I was throwing her to the wolves to be torn to bits. I know she’s a strong woman however I feel like I can’t just stand by and let this man destroy her. I felt like I was abandoning her.
I know that we will go back to our regular arrangement of phone calls, text messages, chats and camming. We will talk when we can and we will meet when we can. We will take advantage of every free moment and savour the taste of each one. Enjoy the moment; when you aren’t certain when the next moment is going to be, you enjoy each one as they come.
Fated.
Note: This is a post I wrote November 15, 2007 about the woman that I still consider to be my soul mate and love with every fibre of my being.
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I don’t like to start off blog posts like this. In this case, I have no choice; I have been thinking for over a week of a way to relay the outcome of my trip alluded to in my last post. And for the past hour, I have been punching keys and then deleting them… feeling they were insufficient to portray the depth and significance of it.
How can you put words to what is quite possibly one of the most influential and monumental events of your life? How can you describe it in a way that does it justice?
The simple fact is that you can’t. But I’m going to try; be damned if I’m not going to try.
Fated
Looking back, I feel like I had been involved in a cosmic Q & A session to find that, within 24 hours, all of my questions had been answered. And in those answers; the key to my future and my happiness seemed clear. The more time that goes past, the more I can appreciate the magnitude of what we’d done.
Although we’d both shared fantasies about our first meeting many times, nothing could prepare me for what it would actually be like. We shared each other in that hotel room; for hours. We made love, we talked, we touched, we held each other… it was incredible.
Right from the moment where she stepped past the doorway and into my arms, nothing that I can remember has ever felt so right. The smell of her perfume in my nose as I planted soft kisses on her neck, the softness of the skin on her lower back as I ran my hand beneath her top, the warmth of her breasts as they crushed against my chest; it was like the final pieces of a puzzle being placed together.
I savoured her body, her mind and her soul on that bed. No part of her body was left untouched. I wanted to commit every curve, every texture, every square inch of her to memory; from her toes to her ears. My lips went places on her body where I’m sure she’s never had a pair of lips go before. Each long and wistful moan she made was recorded; each sharp and pleasure driven breath she took was documented in my mind. We would spend periods in each other’s arms talking about our disbelief about being together and just staring into each other’s eyes.
I expressed my love for her verbally as well, sometimes unable to finish it before I moved in for a kiss. I treasured looking into her eyes while we made love and professing my devotion to her.
Power of the submissive
There is something she holds over me.
I am her Dominant. She is my submissive. I do with her as I like and she trusts me to do this. She enjoys it as I enjoy it… in different ways that are also the same.
She loves me. And it’s this love… this affection… that holds some kind of control over me. It’s hard to understand and it’s a dynamic where understanding is, perhaps, not required.
I don’t think a couple should be married if the husband likes to suck cock more than the wife does.