I'm not stupid, just dense. Actually, I'm a certified Genius, at least by MENSA standards. I don't belong, but I passed their test once on a dare from my wife, my wonderful wife. Therein lies the story. I met her while I was at UT. I was in the honors course at the McCombs School of Business and I was also in Plan II.

Everyone knows about McCombs, it's always in the top ten business schools in the country. Plan II is less well known and much harder to get into. They only accept about 100 or so each year. It's a liberal arts program started in the 1930s. Basically, you take special editions of the courses that the university requires all students to take. Those required courses are your major. They are all taught by University scholars and the classes are tiny. My Freshman English Class had 9 students and was counted toward my major. My American History had 15 and also was counted toward my major. It means, with your major satisfied in your first two years, the last two years you can take anything you want, but most of us choose to have a double major. Mine was in the business school. Plan II bills itself as Ivy League quality and it is. It is also full of pretentious intellectuals.

Plan II is where I met Cathy. It was love at first sight... on her part. It took me a bit longer to notice her. Not that she wasn't good looking; she was a knockout by any standards, and by Plan II standards she was Miss Universe. Her problem was that I hated all the Plan II bullshit. I loved my courses, and I loved the professors, but I've found that most intellectuals are so smart they're stupid.

It wasn't much better in McComb's. Not only was everyone trying to impress everyone else with how smart they were, but everyone constantly boasting about what wonderful jobs they were going to get or how fast they'd earn their second million. All those preening peacocks' egos left little room for my own modest ego. Of course I had to attend the little faculty teas and luncheons because that was where you got to know the professors and where they got to know you. The latter was crucial if you wanted the oh-so-important letters of recommendation.

Cathy wasn't in McCombs but she started showing up at those meetings in addition to the Plan II meetings. I only know this because she told me later. It wasn't until she showed up at my rugby match that I noticed her. Rugby isn't a UT sport, but the Department of Recreation sponsors the club team and we get not only to play the other Big XII teams, but to compete for a national title with universities across the country.

We have a blast, but a big crowd consists of all our girlfriends showing up. Cathy had been chasing me for almost a full year when I finally fell in love-at-first-sight with her. She had the most beautiful shade of red hair and the whitest skin to set it off. Her figure was such a knockout that I blew a scrum when I noticed her for the first time, a cardinal sin for a hooker.

After the game, which we lost to Rice, I walked over to meet her. It was one of the scariest things I've ever done. Cathy is every inch of 5'11" and I'm 5'3" in thick shoes. I'm a hooker because I'm compact. And yes I've heard all the 'short' jokes and all the jokes about 'rugby hookers' and 'street hookers'--I don't think they're funny! I'm compact but also one of the fastest and strongest guys on the team, and not just pound for pound. I have been accused of having a Napoleon complex because of my height. I don't think that's true. I just decided in first grade that if anyone confused compact with inadequate, they'd pay for their ignorance. I was always a great athlete, as great as a 5'3" 120 pound guy could be. Which meant I always made the varsity, but I was never a starter. An athletic scholarship was never a even daydream.

Somehow Cathy always made me feel like I was taller than she was, even when she wore 3" heels. I loved it when she wore heels. It set off her perfect legs, but more important to me, it was proof positive that my height didn't matter. Cathy was my dream girl. I was totally hers from the moment she smiled at me.

She came from a poor family in deep east Texas. Her father had been injured in the oil fields and died, drunk, in a one-car accident when Cathy was in second grade. Her mother was an office worker in a small insurance agency and Cathy was on a full academic scholarship, although I'm sure she could have gotten a needs-based scholarship if necessary.

We officially met in the fall of my junior year and were married at mid-term of my senior year. The only thing we fought over was sex. I wanted it on our first date and Cathy didn't. I was a virgin and Cathy wasn't.

Until Cathy, I'd been every girl's 'pal.' I had dates, but on them I always heard about who they really wanted to date. I know I could have gotten a sympathy fuck, but I wanted a girl who wanted me. Cathy told me that she'd had one boyfriend in high school. She had been certain she would marry him, but she found him cheating on her and she made a solemn vow not to have sex again until she got married. I'm not sure we would have made it if she hadn't defined sex as vaginal intercourse, she gave wicked head. It also made me admire her. She kept her word, her vows meant something. I knew there were time before we married when she wanted me as much as I wanted her, but she never lost her head. It gave me confidence in her and inspired me to do the same.

We didn't have our first non-sex fight until after we were married. Then it was a doozy. She had just assumed that I was going to go to work for my parents. I love my folks They own four franchises down in Houston. No, not McDonald's, but you've probably eaten at one, or at least seen the ads on TV. Each location nets between 75-100K per year so my folks are doing pretty well, not Texas rich, but comfortable. My dad wanted to expand, but couldn't without managerial help. The only managerial help he trusted was family. He defined family as me. I'm four years older than my sister and she had made it clear from kindergarten that she was pre-med.

He offered us a great incentive plan. I wanted to stay in Austin, but not only so Cathy could finish her degree. I loved the town and I hated Houston. I already had my eye on a small Austin computer company that was just getting started. It wasn't Dell but I thought they had a better business model! When Cathy saw the package they were offering me, she dropped her arguments and right after she graduated we bought our first house.

Life was good, but Dell grew and my company didn't, and soon I found myself on the street for the first time. Fortunately I had cashed in my stock options early so I decided it was a great time to pick up my MBA. I chose Wharton and finished in two years. I got a great job working for one of the big banks back in Austin and life was good again. I caught the Austin real estate boom and bust and boom. We had two kids and were living in too much house out on the lake with his and hers Beemers.

Then, after ten years of marriage, I decided I didn't care about being a multi-millionaire and I was sick of working for someone else. I told Cathy I wanted to start my own business and I used most of our liquid assets to buy a franchise, the same one that my dad owned. I had never worked in one of my dad places, and running one was more work than I thought. At first we didn't clear what Dad's stores did, but we weren't missing any meals. What I didn't tell Cathy was that my real desire was to write.

The old Plan II bug had finally bitten me and once I had the franchise running smoothly, I began spending most of my time closeted in my office writing. I didn't want Cathy to know about my perversion until I got published and made my delusion pay. All she saw was that we were only making a fraction of what I'd been making, and I wasn't pushing for expansion. We were not keeping up with the Joneses, to say nothing of all the Dellionairs (even assembly workers at Dell were making millions on stock options) who lived around us.

Yeah, we lived and partied with a very competitive crowd in laid back Austin. "He who has the most toys wins," was very much the philosophy and the toys cost a bundle. Even before I began writing, I'd decided that I didn't need or want the toys anymore. To be fair to Cathy, the decision wasn't discussed and it wasn't mutual That's when we had our next fight. It went on for almost a year, and life in our house was hell. Then almost overnight the fights stopped. That wasn't all that almost stopped. Sex and affection stopped, too, but I never suspected a thing.

I'm not dumb, I knew that money was very important to Cathy, but I thought I could make that as a writer. If I had researched what writers make I might have reconsidered, but that was just one more case of ignorance being bliss. I finished my first book and began shopping for an agent. I finished my second book and agents began to return my emails. I got my third book finished and one morning I received that oh-so-important call from the publisher. She was going to buy all three. What's more she was willing to give me a $30,000.00 advance on each! For an unpublished writer that's a homerun.

I had a little micro recorder that I used to practice dialogue aloud before I wrote it for my books. Elated, I got permission to record the publisher's offer so I could impress Cathy. I called Cathy and told her we were going to celebrate. I told her to hire a baby sitter and put on her best; I was taking her to Green Pastures, one of the best restaurants in Austin, for dinner.

Her lack of enthusiasm should have set off red lights and warning bells. Hell, her not being ecstatic about going out, in the middle of the week, to the best place in Austin? It should have set off flares and air raid sirens

We got to the restaurant, a restored southern mansion, early enough to see the peacocks strolling the grounds and were ushered to a romantic room with an impeccable table. I ordered their milk punch and Cathy ordered a margarita.

I could feel her tension building all through dinner. I should have known something was wrong but I was too excited. I had decided to wait until dessert to spring my surprise but then her cell phone rang.

"We're at dinner... You're kidding! Here! Now?"

"No, not until this weekend..." she stopped in mid-sentence again and then giggled.

"No, I told you how I wanted to do it... I can't! Please, Mike, not here. " She sighed, listened for a little bit and then said, "Are you sure?... Just like we practiced?" She listened a bit more and I watched her face harden.

I had already taken out the micro recorder to play for her but some instinct made me start recording when she said "Please, Mike, not here."

"Okay, but you'd better be here, this is going to be ugly... Okay, I love you, too."

She hung up her phone and gave me a look that I'd never seen. It was an implacable, denigrating stare. "I'm going to leave you, shrimp dick. I can't live with a wimp, and I can't live with a loser. I've been having an affair for the last six months and you've eaten his cum out of my twat. I detest you. I only married you because I thought you were going to make it big and you're a huge failure. No, nothing about you is huge, you have the smallest dick I've ever seen on a grown man. You're so tiny, I'm surprised you were able to get me pregnant. You're so short I'm scared to let you go out alone with the kids. You're too little to protect them if a kindergarten bully showed up. So I'm not going to allow even partial custody.

"The only thing decent about you is your little tongue. If you want to come home and eat Mike's fresh cum out of my pussy for old time's sake, I'll consider giving you unofficial visitation. If not, well they got SHORTchanged by having your DNA but I won't let them be polluted by your tiny ambition."

I'm not dumb. I knew Cathy had married me for where she thought I would take her, but I never saw this coming. I think the reason I didn't react as she expected was because it was such a sudden change from the way she'd been acting before the call. I wasn't going to lose my temper over temporary insanity. Then it dawned on me. She was trying to provoke me to violence. I've never hit her but she knows I've got a hair-trigger temper about certain subjects. She knew me, and she expected me to hit her! IN PUBLIC!

With cold calculation, I blurted, "Cathy, I love you. Why are you doing this?"

Her face twisted into a hideous snarl, her voice raised to a near shout. "I was prepared to put up with your disgusting tiny limp drooling dick, you little pipsqueak, as long as you were going places. I've told you a hundred times I won't be a LOWER-middle-class housewife. You wouldn't listen. It wouldn't have been so bad if you had the first clue about how to satisfy a woman, but all you want to do is try to stick that pathetic little pencil in me and pump for five seconds. I've always hated you in bed."

One of the things I learned playing sports is to keep my cool under pressure. I wasn't sure why Cathy was saying things so loudly, but I could see the maitre 'd edging towards us.

I know that my cock isn't massive. It's normal sized, just a fraction (a half inch is a fraction) under seven inches. Even so, I spent hours going down on Cathy and no one could fake the orgasms she had. I could feel them inside her, during oral and regular sex.

"Cathy, lower your voice or they are going to throw us out of here. I love you. I've never been unfaithful and, even if you have, I want to work this out."

"The only thing to work out, TINY tallywacker, is how much time with the kids you get and how much you're willing to pay for it." She was panting now in real anger. Showing restraint, controlling my temper was making her lose both!

She did however lower her voice and hissed, "Well, are you willing to come home and suck a real man's cum out of me for the right to see your kids?"

I clenched my jaw and said as coldly as I could, "Have the kids been in the house when you've entertained your 'real man.'"

She was nonplussed for a second, then sneered, "Of course they were. I just told them I'd found a happy machine when they heard me cum."

"Cathy, I heard you make arrangements for him to pick you up. I'm going home now. I'll help you move out tomorrow. I will not allow that sort of behavior in front my children. I think that all future conversations will be through our lawyers."

Her face contorted into a mask of pure evil, "I'm going to take you for everything. It won't be enough to make up for years of pretending, but what do you expect from such a little man. I'm going to marry Mike. He's 6'1", a pediatrician and he can afford the best. If you try to fight for the kids, I'll bankrupt you."

I clicked off the recording and said very softly, "I can't believe you're this stupid. I know you're going for the money but don't you realize that any man who would cheat like this with you will do the same on you? He's not going to fight very hard for kids he doesn't want and if he does marry you, I'll bet you ten thousand dollars it doesn't last two years."