Chapter 1

I was furious when I left work to go home. I don't think I've ever been so mad in my life. I had a little time to cool down as I dealt with the rush hour traffic. That's not my normal reaction to all of the idiots on the road. By the end of my normal commute I usually find myself wishing that I had a pair of fifty caliber machine guns mounted on the front and rear of my car so that I can let the idiots around me know just how stupid and rude they are.

But this evening the crawling traffic gave me time to think; and to reach an unexpected conclusion. I no longer intend to storm into the house as soon as I get home and start screaming at my wife.

I had an epiphany while making my way home, fending off the tailgaters and watching out for the idiots who are always squeezing their cars into that too small space in front of me as if they're goal is to take the paint off of my front bumper.

I suddenly realized that I no longer love my wife. I'm not going to scream at her after all. There would be no point. I'm going to calmly walk through the house without saying a word. I'll get my suitcase out and pack some of my clothes. I can stay in a motel for the next few days until I can find an apartment or a small house that I'm able to afford to rent.

I've been married for only three years. I realize now that I didn't known my wife very well when we got married. I suppose that I was blinded by her beauty. She is certainly one of the sexiest and most beautiful women I know. That just makes the fact that she doesn't like sex and has lately rejected my every advance that much more frustrating.

The total absence of intimacy isn't the reason I'm furious though. That's just one of the indignities simmering in the background. Neither is the fact that my wife hasn't bothered to take the time to clean or cook ... ever. She seems to have only one reason to live, to spend money. She lives only to shop. She shops on the internet. She shops on television. And she's well known and very welcome in nearly every store in town.

The reason I'm so furious now, though, is that I logged onto the internet before I left the office this evening and learned that once again she has overdrawn our checking account. That was the last fucking straw. I just wasn't aware of it until I had time to think while making my way through rush hour traffic on the way home. On Monday I'll close that account and open one of my own.

I left the office intending to tear into her when I got home. As I drove, though, I began to calm down. I realized that yelling at her serves no purpose. She doesn't even listen. But the fury didn't really leave me until I realized that I don't love her anymore. She has killed the love I once felt for her.

I really don't care what she does anymore. I've stayed with her long after the love was gone because I was worried about what would happen to her if I left her.

She has no living relatives now. Or at least she has none of which we're aware. She has no friends. Or at least she has no close friends. She's always been a bitch to all of my friends. I can no longer invite anyone over on the weekend to watch a game on television or for a friendly evening of nickel, dime and quarter poker. My friends won't come over.

Some of my closer friends have suggested that she needs counseling. To be honest, I agree with them. But of course she doesn't agree and she was highly insulted by the suggestion. She refuses to talk to a professional about a problem she refuses to believe she has.

She didn't finish high school and as far as I can tell she has no marketable skills. She has never looked for work and to the best of my knowledge she has never worked a day in her life. She never even babysat when she was a teen.

She doesn't do housework. She doesn't know how to cook and refuses to learn. She won't have sex. She has only one function. She wakes up every day, finds things that we don't need and buys them.

I have a good job and a good income. But we're living from paycheck to paycheck because she spends every penny I make on crap we don't need.

I don't know what she's going to do now. But it's a relief to realize that I no longer care. I know my life is about to become much simpler. I was actually calm by the time I got home.

I parked in the driveway and entered the house through the garage. I picked up my suitcases as I passed through the garage. I went upstairs without even going into the living room to speak to Gwen.

I laid my suitcases out on the bed and started packing. I need two suitcases because I have more dirty clothes than clean clothes. I haven't done laundry yet. I do my own laundry because she sure as hell won't do it.

I packed my clean clothes in one bag and my dirty clothes in the other. After I finished packing I went back down to the garage and found an empty box. I went around the house collecting a few things that are important to me. I packed some books and some CDs that I'm fond of and some photographs of my friends and family. I was careful not to take anything that might be of value to Gwen.

I thought about taking the computer. But I don't use it for much more than checking my email and doing my banking. Until I get resettled I can use my laptop for that, or check it at work.

I was just closing up my suitcases when Gwen came in to see what I'm doing and probably to ask me what I'm going to make for dinner. She saw that I was packed. She probably assumed that I was going out of town on one of my infrequent business trips.

She looked confused for a moment. After a short pause she asked, "How long will you be gone?"

I replied in a calm, quiet voice, "Gwen, you'll be needing a lawyer. I want a divorce. I can't take this any longer. I don't love you anymore and I'm tired of you spending me into the poorhouse. You don't cook. You don't clean house. You won't have sex. All you do is sit around and spend more money than I make on things we don't need. The garage is full of shit you've ordered but when it arrived you never even opened the damn boxes. You don't have any idea what you have in the boxes stacked up out there."

Her face turned white when I told her I want a divorce. In an instant she had a terrified look on her face, like an animal caught in a trap.

I explained, "I'm going to stay in a motel this weekend. I can't get much done since it's Friday and everything is closed. But on Monday I'm going to tell Keith that I need a week off. I'm going to find an apartment and I'm going to close our checking account. I'm going to have my name taken off of the lease and I'm going to notify the utility companies that I'm leaving and that after the last day of this month I will no longer be responsible for any charges."

In the past the look of panic on her face would have turned me to butter; but not this time. I was almost ashamed of myself for feeling so much satisfaction. She felt her life of leisure collapsing around her ears. For the first time in a long time I felt like smiling. I controlled the urge, but only with great difficulty.

I picked my suitcases up and set them on the floor. I went into the bathroom and picked up my toiletries. When I came back out she was still standing in the bedroom door with that look of panic on her face.

I placed my toiletries in the box of personal items that I assembled. I turned to look at her and said, "I'll be back some time this weekend to pick up the rest of my things. I'll have to arrange with one of my friends to store my belongings in their garage until I find a place to live. You can keep the furniture and the things that we bought as a couple. I'm only taking a few of my personal items."

There are tears in her eyes now. But there's no doubt in my mind that they're tears of self pity.

She finally spoke. She whispered, "Why?"

I stared at her for a moment. She knows why. I just told her why. As usual she wasn't listening. She never really pays any attention to anything I say.

But there's more than the fact that she's a spendthrift, a shitty homemaker and a frigid bitch that led us to this point. Those things I mentioned are not our only problems.

We don't talk anymore. The only things she's knowledgeable about, the only topics she's able to discuss are the private lives of celebrities, the plots of television shows, or how much money she just saved by buying something that we don't need and don't even really want. Any attempt to discuss something weightier, perhaps world affairs or current events is met with a blank stare.

We just argue. That's our only form of communication now. Mostly we argue about her spending. But we argue about everything else too. We never just talk.

I answered her question, anyway. I want to make sure there's no misunderstanding. I want her to know this isn't a gesture of some sort. Our marriage is really over. There's no doubt in my mind. I have no reservations. I'm completely confident that I've made the right decision. I don't care what happens to her anymore.

In answer to her question I calmly replied, "I checked our bank account before I left the office. You spent more than I earned again. Our checking account is overdrawn ... again. I was going to come home and yell at you because that seems to be the only way we can communicate now. I was furious.

"But on the way home I realized that I don't love you anymore, Gwen. You've killed it.

"In fact, I don't think I've loved you for two years now. I just didn't have the balls to break it off. You don't do a damn thing around the house and it's almost like you take pride in that. You're sexy as hell but you won't fuck. We don't make love. We don't talk. Hell, when I'm home I'm usually too busy doing the cooking and the laundry and cleaning house to spend time with you even if I wanted to!

"It's over. I can't take it anymore. I realized on the way home that I don't even care what happens to you now."

I picked up one of my suitcases and headed for the car. I'm going to have to make three trips.

Gwen was still blocking the bedroom door. As I approached her the meaning of my words seemed to finally sink in. She exclaimed, "I'll change! Kenny, I'll change! I swear it!"

She sounded truly desperate. But she has made those promises before. She makes them frequently. We have the argument about her spending and her inability to do housework so often that we should assign numbers to our positions and just state the numbers instead of repeating the same lines over and over to no effect.

This time I'm not going to argue. I'm packed and I'm leaving. From the look of panic on her face I think that it's finally sinking in that her free ride is over.

I shook my head and said, "You say that every time we have this discussion, Gwen. And it seems like we have this discussion at least once a week now. The simple truth is that it doesn't matter anymore. I no longer care what you do. I can't live like this. I want to get on with my life."

She continued to block my path. I said, "Get out of my way, Gwen. I told you. It's over. Go back downstairs and watch the shopping channel or a game show or whatever the hell you want to watch. Count your blessings. I'll no longer be pestering you to let me watch the news at six o'clock. Now you can watch all the game shows and all the television judges that you want until you fucking starve to death."

Her breath caught in her throat when she heard the venom in my voice. For a moment she looked like she'd been slapped. Her face has gone pale and it looked for a moment like she was going to collapse.

I no longer care. I waited another long moment for her to move from the doorway but she didn't. I put my suitcase down and reached for her shoulders. I intended to gently move her out of my way.

When I raised my arms to grasp her shoulders she stepped forward and put her arms around my waist. I tried to gently push her away. I don't want to harm her. I just want out.

She pleaded once more, "Please, Kenny. I know I've said it before. I mean it this time. I'll change. I'll do anything you want. I'll learn to cook. I'll clean and do the laundry. I won't spend another dime. I'll do anything you want in bed. We can make love anytime you want. I'll make it good for you. I promise."

Great! She's finally going to grant me access to her body now that I no longer have any desire for her! I was becoming impatient now. The exasperation was obvious in my voice when I responded, "Gwen, you've made that exact same promise so many times. The truth is I don't care anymore. I don't love you. I don't even want to fuck you anymore. You know all of those blowjobs that you were always too damned good to give me? I don't even want you to suck my cock anymore!"

She was sobbing loudly now and it may even have been genuine. But if so it's only because she's worried about what will become of her. I've come to realize that I was never more to her than a tool she could use. If a hammer or a screwdriver was capable of supporting her she'd have been just as happy to use one of them.

She seems desperate now. But she isn't desperate because her husband is leaving her. She's desperate because her meal ticket is leaving. She tightened her grip on my waist and breathlessly pleaded, "Kenny, please! Let me try. Let me make it up to you. Give me a test. I'll do it, I swear! We can fuck anytime you want, any place you want. I'll suck your cock as often as you want. I'll do anything! Just please don't leave me!"

I know how to put an end to this. I just have to be as unreasonable as she has been. I said, "I want more than that, Gwen. I want the things you were always too damned good to give me. But I want more. I want you to be my fucking slave. I want you to be a slut. I want you to take off your clothes whenever and wherever I tell you, no matter where, no matter who is there. And I want you to fuck and suck anyone, at any time. Those are my demands and they are nonnegotiable."

She stared at me in shock for a long moment before she finally whispered, "I can't do that, Kenny. You know I'm not like that."

I answered, "I know that, Gwen. So get out of my way."

I finally had to pry her arms from around my waist and move her out of the way. I picked up my suitcase and took it out to my car. I came back for the second suitcase and then the box of personal items. Each time I returned to the room she was face down on our bed crying almost hysterically.

I was a little surprised when I realized that I was totally unmoved. I honestly don't care about her anymore.

I didn't even say goodbye. I drove to a downtown motel and checked in. I took my suitcases and my box to my room and then I went to dinner. I stopped at a convenience store on the way back to my room. I bought a couple of beers and a bag of chips. I went back to my room, got comfortable and watched a baseball game. I've missed watching baseball and football. I haven't had the time or the opportunity at home. If I wanted to watch a game I had to go to a friend's house.

I felt a sense of freedom that I haven't felt in years. I feared that I would feel guilt when I finally called it quits. I was afraid that I'd feel a sense of responsibility knowing that Gwen is incapable of supporting herself.

Instead, I felt calm for the first time in years. The constant knot in my gut is gone. Martin Luther King's famous words came to mind and I smiled. I am indeed "free at last!"

I started getting calls on my cell phone around nine that evening. I had absolutely no desire to talk to her. She has nothing to say that I haven't heard before and even on the off chance that she should mean it when the words were leaving her mouth I know that no matter what she promises she won't be able to keep her word.

I turned the ringer off and enjoyed the game without any distractions. When the game was over I went to bed and slept peacefully. No bad dreams, no regrets.

I awoke in the morning, calm and rested. I went to breakfast at a nearby diner. I checked my cell phone. She must have been calling all night long. My voice mail box was full. I deleted all of the messages without listening to them. I noticed that as soon as the box was empty it started filling up again. I decided that the best way to handle this, as distasteful as it may be, is to talk to her in person when I go by the house to get the rest of my things. She needs to see my face and know how serious I am about this.

After breakfast I called a friend and explained that I'm leaving Gwen and asked if I could store a few things in his garage until I find a place to live.

He laughed and said, "It's about fucking time, Ken! Welcome back to the world of the living."

My friends all despise Gwen. They frequently try to convince me that I need to grow a set of balls and either put her in her place or get the hell out. I guess I finally grew the balls.

I told Jerry that I'd be over in a little while. I paid for breakfast and drove back to the house to confront Gwen. I don't doubt that it's going to get ugly. I just don't care anymore.

I backed into the driveway. I opened the trunk and I opened the garage door. I found another empty box among the stacks of unopened boxes of shit that Gwen has ordered and went inside.

I found Gwen sitting at the kitchen table, still wearing the same clothes she had on when I left yesterday evening. She looked like shit. Her eyes were red and dull. She has apparently been up all night crying and dialing my cell phone.

She looked up at me when I entered the room. In that first moment I think that she thought I had changed my mind. But then she saw the determined look on my face and the empty box I'm carrying. Her shoulders slumped and she started crying again.

I can remember when I would have been torn up if I saw her crying. In the past the sight of her in tears was enough to break my heart. But not now. Not this time. I felt nothing.

I stopped across the table from her and said, "Stop calling my cell phone, Gwen. It's over. There is nothing you can say to change that. I don't love you anymore. I don't want you anymore. Just leave me alone. We both need to get on with our lives. You need to start looking for work. I'm not going to support your lazy ass any longer."

She stared at me through her tears. I think the reality of her situation may finally be sinking in. I turned to go upstairs and get some of my belongings when she whispered, "I'll do it."

I didn't know what she was talking about. She saw that I was confused. She stood up and actually tore her blouse open. She repeated, "I'll do it."

I looked at her exposed flesh. It annoys the hell out of me that she still can turn me on. But I'm only human and she really does have a hot little body.

Under her blouse she's wearing a sexy, lacy little bra. The slightly darker areas beneath the cups where her small, delicate nipples are hiding are plainly visible. She held her blouse open to expose herself to me; to offer herself to me.

I couldn't help but be aware of how sexy she is, standing there partially exposed like that. But now I'm able to appreciate her beauty without being susceptible to her considerable charms.

I remembered the outrageous demands I made of her last night when I told her what I would require from her if she wants me to stay. I know that she can't do those things. She might be able to flash her bra covered tits at me in the privacy of our kitchen. She might even reluctantly allow me to touch her. Hell, she's so scared now that she might even let me fuck her!

But there's no way she can do the things I told her I'd require of her when I was leaving last night. She has never, not in three years of marriage, agreed to suck my cock. She seldom allowed me to see her naked or even in her lingerie when the lights were on. On more than a few occasions I have given serious consideration to the possibility that she might be a lesbian. Lesbian or not, though, she sure as hell has never wanted to have sex with me.

I grinned and said, "That's a very pretty bra, Gwen. Do you realize this is the closest you've ever come to voluntarily showing me your tits? But we both know you can't do what I told you I'd require of you last night if you want me to stay."