Hey folks, as those of you who read my blog already know, I was almost finished with the story I was going to put out this week, but last week's news about Glenn Frey from the eagles hit me pretty hard. I put that story away to write this one instead. A lot of you guys out there know what it's like trying to convince your wife, especially when she likes a different kind of music how great the music you grew up with is. So just this past summer, I took my girls to see the history of the Eagles concert at the Joe Louis Arena. All three of them came out of that show loving the eagles as much as I do.
I did one Eagles song, (Lyin' Eyes) a couple of years ago and had plans to do more. So this is the first of at least a couple I'll be doing this year. I only had three days to get this out, so forgive me if it's not perfect. Everyone who wants to complain about my grammar and comma usage can email me for a refund. Think about the Eagles while you read this or better off just listen to the song. They really don't make them like this anymore. SS06
I woke up to a sinking feeling in my stomach. There was also a hand on my ass and another trying to push its way between my legs. I had a really bad headache that I knew hadn't come from the liquor we'd drank the night before.
"Ceej, Honey, I'm not much of a morning person," I mumbled.
"Oh! ... Sorry," he mumbled. "But what about all of those stories you told me about you and Mark fucking all night and then half of the next day?"
"I was twenty then," I grumbled. "When you're twenty years old and madly in love you can live on sex."
"Oh..." he said sadly.
He looked like a hurt puppy and I wondered again if I wasn't making a mistake. On paper it seemed like everything would be perfect for me. I was trading in a forty year old man who worked all day long and then came home and worked on his car, for a thirty year old man who worshipped the ground I walked on.
Mark was dedicated to his fucking job and to stacking dollars for what he thought was going to be our future. CJ was dedicated to me. Mark, while not controlling or anywhere near abusive, seemed to always argue with me. If I put my foot down and stood firm, drawing a line in the sand, he just looked at me with a peculiar little smile on his face and walked away.
Things were not supposed to work that way. When my mother put her foot down, my father toed the line the way he was supposed to. Eventually he realized that as has been said too many times to recount, "Happy wife, happy life."
But not Mr. Mark Clayton. Mr. Mark Clayton looked at me with a look that seemed to say, "Bitch, you're crazy!"
If I brought out the big guns and withheld sex, he shrugged his shoulders and worked on his car more. I hated that fucking Mustang with a passion. And it was the weirdest thing ... Not getting any sex was supposed to render him a gibbering idiot. That was what my mom told me. But a couple of days after I started holding out in him, he developed this weird habit of looking at his watch.
It's a really good thing that women are smarter than men, or I wouldn't have figured it out. I noticed a calendar in our kitchen with a big red circle around the very next weekend. There were also several days leading up to it, including that day crossed off. It made no sense until I went into his sock drawer and found a brochure for a high end brothel in Las Fucking Vegas.
Right on the cover of the brochure was a picture of several different women who all looked like they'd be eager to suck my husband's Dick for free and would kill me for the chance to do it for money. They were all pretty, well built, very young women too. I almost went into shock.
I think the thing that pissed me off the most was that he'd already crossed that day off and it wasn't even lunch time yet. I wasn't stupid. And there was no way I was going to let him go off and screw a bunch of professional whores. I knew what would come after that. He'd try to put my ass out to pasture in less time than it takes his Mustang to reach thirty miles an hour and his zero to sixty time was less than five seconds.
So that night, knowing where my fucking bread was buttered, I offered to have sex with him. I was pissed beyond belief. And I ended up with my feelings hurt.
"Nah," he said. He said it so quickly that it was like an afterthought. Like something that was so minor in importance that it didn't even rate consideration.
I was sure that steam was coming out of my ears as the tables turned.
"Oh come on Mark, it's been a week!" I heard myself whining.
"I'm just not in the mood," he said.
"I could suck your dick," I smiled trying to make myself seem sexy. It was a struggle. Especially when my fondest dream would have been to bite it off and spit it into the fireplace. "Please baby let me suck your dick," I begged.
"I don't know," he said as if considering it. "You're not very good at it. It just seems like you're just trying to get it over with. Maybe week after next..."
A shock went through me. And that was the way things always went with us. I tried all of the shit I learned on TV, in magazines and from my mother, to come out on top, but Mark always seemed to get the upper hand.
CJ, on the other hand, worshipped me. I was his Goddess. All I had to do was say jump and he was in the air. Why hadn't I left Mark for CJ before now?
Two reasons. The first is that deep down inside I love Mark. I hate his work ethic. I hate the shit out of his sense of RE-sponsi-fucking-bility and I loathe the fact that he simply won't take any shit off of anybody.
The second reason is even more practical. CJ, for all of his intense worship and suckery ... Lord I love having him kiss my ass ... Makes minimum wage or something like that working in a bar. He's fun to be around, and he does everything I tell him to, but there is no way he can support me.
Mark, the asshole I married, has a salary in the low six figures. Maybe that's why he's such ... Okay; it wasn't always this way between us. When we first got together, we were very much in love. But twenty years and about a million arguments have both of us raising our defenses against the other.
As I tried to remember what it was exactly that changed our everlasting love into never ending ennui and then transformed that into soul searing hatred, CJ intruded on my thoughts.
He was rubbing my legs ever so gently hoping to get me into the mood without getting me pissed off at him. That gentle leg rubbing thing always turned me on soooo fucking much when Mark did it. CJ on the other hand was just annoying me.
"CJ, move over here and suck my titty," I told him.
"Seriously?" he gushed. I nodded at him. And he quickly scurried towards me.
I hated to tell him that his rubbing my legs annoyed me because I could feel it and it took me away from my thoughts. On the other hand my big old titties were as fake as my blond hair. After the surgery, I noticed that I had lost most of the feeling in my nipples. Mark could always make me feel sensations there but no one else seemed to be able to.
That was another thing I hated about that bastard. He was really good in bed. And his dick was definitely bigger than CJ's. Mark could always leave me trembling like a puddle of goop on the floor. It was hard for me to believe that he had never cheated on me. Even harder to believe that he really loved me and still does to this day. This is going to be really hard on him. But that's a good thing because it means that I can always come back to him if need be.
In fact there'd be no need for me to leave Mark at all if he didn't have to win every fucking argument. If he would just let me control things the way it was supposed to be, we'd be a lot fucking happier. In fact if I was in control, I'd be a much happier wife and I'd make him the happiest bastard on the planet. But he's pissed me off one time too many.
It had actually been CJ who made me realize that I really was the one in control. He told me that in a divorce, the woman always gets everything and the husband ends up living in his mom's basement, eating tuna straight out of the can. CJ himself was living with a woman who wanted to marry him, but she wasn't really what he was looking for. They weren't married, so walking away from her would be no problem.
"So ... Sluuuuurrrp ... Don't ... Sluurp slurp ... Forget. Today's the day you call him," said CJ between slurps on my breast.
I remembered then. The plan. We'd been planning it for weeks. We had waited for the perfect time. And this week was perfect. It was perfect because Mark was out of town. It was perfect because both CJ and I were cowards. Neither of us had the balls to tell my husband face to face that I was leaving him and pursuing a divorce.
I almost threw up just thinking about it. I mean, I do have a small sense of wrong and right. And it just seemed heinous for me to call the man when he was out of town on business, busting his ass to pay for the house I just had to have and my car and all of my clothes and jewelry and even the food I ate.
Mark deserved more. He deserved for me to sit down with him and talk about our relationship and how we were both feeling. If we agreed that there was no way to save our marriage, then we should have discussed all of the options open to us. Then and only then, should we discuss a divorce. And after the divorce, we would both be free to move on to other relationships.
.... There is more of this story ...