Sunday, September 19, 2010
Everyone's Idea of Love
I don't think everyone's idea of love is identical. In fact, because of the blinding nature of love, I don’t think most couples even know how close each other’s ideas of love really are, even older couples. I know June W.’s and mine sure as hell were not the same.
For those new to this blog, June W. is my ex-wife. Keep up.
I’m pretty sure that June never really fell completely in love with any man; not her first husbinder, and definitely not with me. “Husbinder,” that was her term for them. I’m sure she’s never felt deep love; and never will.
You see, she’s never had someone leave her for another. That means that she’s historically always been the cheater; the manipulator. In fact, I think that is how June sees all her relationships: She’s the queen manipulator.
Because of my very first blog entry, on December 15th, 2005, http://sincerelysober.blogspot.com/2005/12/my-first-weblog-post.html, she has never forgiven me for being the first, and last, man to cheat on her; and I didn’t.
Back in September of 2005, the day I was released from jail for my DUI, I visited Kelly M. I consoled her on her loss of her last boyfriend, and knew her, Biblically. She drank wine, while I vowed to stay sober. I knew, even then, that alcohol was the root of my problems. I asked her if I could stay with her until I found a job.
She’d always been attracted to me. Kelly is extremely hot looking. She’s got breeder looks: 36DD breasts, wide hips, and a shapely body. She used to be
over-weight, but she’d started working out in anticipation of a new husband…any new husband. But, she’s definitely an air-head. She doesn’t follow politics, doesn’t have a passion for anything, and doesn’t seek out knowledge, for knowledge’s sake. I believe that her only real passion is having children; which, not to segway, is the reason she’s on June’s ten-most-easily-manipulated list.
But, see, I never cheated on June. Our divorce was final before I was ever released from jail in the fall of 2005. June has always had it in her head that Kelly and I had an affair while we were married. There was this one evening when June had left on a business trip for a week. I had told her that I was going to have Kelly over for a movie one night. Kelly and I had always had urges for each other, but never acted on them, not while I was married. But, we almost did that night. Kelly was acting a little weird after that night, and I’m sure June noticed, but it wasn’t because something happened. It’s most likely because Kelly wanted something to happen.
The night that Kelly and I slept together, the day I was released from jail, was the only time we’d had carnal relations. That was definitely a strange day to remember. She started drinking wine. She asked if I wanted to indulge, but I declined. I figured, booze got me here: I don’t need to drink any more
Then she became melancholy, talking about how her last boyfriend left her. I don’t remember his name, but for all intents and purposes, let’s just call him Tom. It was bad. Tom was teasing her about going back with his ex. She gave me the horrible details, which eventually ended with him going back to his ex; which she then left him for another younger guy. A story would cause tears in the eyes of the writers of “Days of Our Lives”.
Kelly then described, in detail, how she planned to attract Tom back into her life. Seduce him into believing she was deeply in love with him. Then, “drop him like a rock!” I was shocked when she said that, because I was totally buying the entire sincerity spiel. After she’d said that, she’d just finished one bottle of wine. She hesitated, only for a moment, before deciding to open a new bottle.
She kept crying and crying. I kept hugging her to console her. She gave great hugs. Breeders are always great huggers. Then she eventually looked up at me with those mascara-bled eyes and said, “Do you wanna fuck?”
I could not have imagined a more romantic query from such a beautiful woman. What didn’t happen was that my jaw didn’t drop (it was the Devil in me). I immediately got a hard-on and said, “Yes”. I guess it doesn’t take much to seduce me. Pathetic.
The odd thing about this entire encounter was that she insisted on have sex in her daughter’s room. She claimed that her bedroom was a mess – which if it was anything like the kitchen, was totally believable – but there still was that nagging idea in the back of my head. Her youngest daughter had confessed to me soda voce that her brother sleeps in the same bed as her mother. So, there was definitely something in there that she didn’t want me to see. I queered that we should do it in her daughter’s bedroom. “What if she came home?”, I asked. She convinced me that she was at a sleep-over. Still, fucking the MILF surrounded by pink stuffed animals was, to say the least, a little kinky.
But, the oddest part – and here’s the control part – was that half-way through the missionary position, she asks, “Are you cut?”
I’m totally ready to cum at this point, and then my mind asks, ‘What does she mean by cut?’ This is where my mind flashes back to that scene from “Animal House”. You know, where the guy gets the under-aged girl drunk, and into bed. After the first kiss, she passes out, totally nude. Now he’s contemplating doing her passed out. Just then, the Devil pops up on one shoulder, trying to convince him to take advantage of her. Then an Angel (which, coincidentally is her youngest daughter’s name) tries to convince him not to. I don’t need to explain the scenario; you can watch the movie…it’s funny. Eventually, the Angel wins and the Devil calls him a ‘homo’. But, I’m thinking the same thing. Two parts of my brain are working at the same time (they do that, ya know), the Devil and the Angel. The Angel is telling me, ‘Of course I haven’t had a vasectomy; June can’t conceive.’ The Devil is saying, ‘Circumcision? Of course I’ve been cut.’ But, the bottom line question was, ‘Why hasn’t Kelly, after three grown kids and being in her forties, hasn’t had her tubes tied?’
I didn’t think of the other alternative, like maybe having a child of my own wouldn’t be so bad. Or that I could simply cum to fight another day…with a condom. In the end, I told her, “You know that June has had a hysterectomy. I have no need to get cut.” I pulled out and we did things manually…I crying shame.
This whole scene was summed up in the song by Mountain, “Mississippi Queen”…if you know what I mean. Every time I hear that song, I am reminded of that night with Kelly M.
The facts of the matter are that:
June had never been cheated on,
We met by her cheating on her husband,
Me by cheating on my girlfriend, June’s sister-in-law, and,
That no matter what I told her, she will always feel that sleeping with Kelly – post-divorce – was cheating on her.
I’ve examined all of June’s relationships; family, friends, lovers: past and yours-truly. It has always been a matter of convenience and manipulation. June is the alpha-dog in every relationship. If she can’t find a way to be the alpha, she’ll make it so, or cut it off; blow it off, so to speak. June is the kind of person that has to be right, 98.2% of the time. She’s not the kind of person that likes to learn from her own mistakes.
As far as true love is concerned, I think she experienced it with me at some point in our marriage (I believe in our first year). But she now believes that at that point in time it was a farce. I fell in love with her because she showed me something that I longed for: family. My closest brother felt that need too. During that first year, and the year before we were married, family was important.
And it was good. Christmas, Thanksgiving, Halloween, Easter, I’d made sure that we celebrated them fully. I even pushed for the Renaissance fair: Over weight girls in push-up bras gleaming attraction from warriors. She was a definite shoe-in. June didn’t dig that scene. She wasn’t into role playing.
See, June didn’t marry me for love. She married me for health insurance. We were already living comfortably for three years together before we married. I had always been employed (up to that point). She felt it was her time to stop making money and experiment with (several) other self-employed experiments. Most of these experiments did not yield profit. But, being the manipulator, she held the purse-strings. I never really knew where the money was going. I knew she had a lot of debt: student loans, second mortgage, credit cards, etc. I came into the marriage now with debt, when before I had none. Attempt at discovery was always diverted to other things. I was the money-maker and had to describe in detail why I had to buy the computer upgrade that I needed. I’m a computer programmer. The computer that I eventually bought is the one I’m still using to document this post; that’s how old it is. For June, money is, and always will be, king. I got fucked in the divorce. That happens when you’re drunk constantly.
June married me for health insurance. She has always had a hard time working for a company and found in me, a Software Engineer, a stable husbinder that could provide the health insurance that she so desperately needed in order for her to pursue her dream of self-employment. Not necessarily paying down her debt, but one that supports her desires. What does she do today? She sells health insurance.
And, she’s into sex. We first met because of sex. I mean, we cheated on each other’s significant others (we couldn’t admit how we met in our wedding video) and on our relatives. That probably went by too fast for you to catch. We met through relatives. My girlfriend’s brother and wife visited one week. His wife is June. June and I hooked up. So, I slept with my girlfriend’s sister-in-law.
You know that time, in every relationship, where it’s asked: How many lovers have you had?
I was up to 14 and counting (having a hard time) when she stopped me. I was sure I was drying up on the last few counts (I was digging). I could name every one, because we had relationships. She bowed her head and said, “It’s more than 100.” Then she paused, “Do you still love me?” It was at that point that I had realized that she hadn’t really had a decent relationship with any of them. She’d never deeply loved any man. I wanted to be that man.
Okay, June is not the most attractive woman, physically. She can’t get small. She can’t loose her weight any more. She used to be able to when we first met, but not any more. She doesn’t have a striking face. She’s cute, and adorable, but not drop-dead gorgeous.
My first wife, Vennessa W., was hot. But, she didn’t even know it. Vennessa would wear anything I’d ask her to. She was my dress up doll, and everything worked on her. She had a tight little body and loved to show it off. We’d go out shopping so I could see her in so many other things. She liked to dress up, and I like to dress her up. The one thing about Vennessa was that if she thought I thought she looked sexy in it, she wanted to wear it. It’s that third level of awareness.
Vennessa had the kind of body, even for a woman ten years my senior, that everyone wanted to see, and she knew it. She was a voyeur. So, shopping for her was a joy, for both her and me. It actually didn’t matter what I bought for her. (Well, actually, I could say that it didn’t work for her and she’d believe it). She had the kind of body and face that anything would look good on. Different, but good…and difference was good.
Vennessa didn’t mind wearing chokers. June thought they were for dogs. June preferred pearls. I bought Vennessa lingerie, and she was happy. June was happy when I bought her a ring, before we were married.
This was a special ring. It was our promisary ring. We weren’t ready to get married just yet. But, I wanted to express my love for June, without any connection to marriage. So, I took her to a jeweler and chose a ring that I thought was the most beautiful of all rings. I chose it in front of her. I wanted to buy it to show her how beautiful I thought she was.
It had a blue sapphire in the middle surrounded by diamonds. This ring meant a replacement of the rings that we had exchanged in Las Vegas; one wonderful cheating event. Her finger never looked more beautiful (well, entire hand, really). It is an awesome looking ring and she wears it to this day more often than any other ring, even after the divorce. I don’t think she ever wears the diamond I bought her for our wedding any more. I think she thinks that because it was pre-wedding, that it has nothing to do with the love that was meant to be conveyed by the ring. June can easily separate the two.
As my drinking became more of a problem, her faking it became more noticeable. She started to complain about her relationships with everyone from close friends to close family members, ones we used to vacation with. She started even bitching about her cats, who I know she loved.
Then she stopped confiding in me. I was the problem now. Well, of course, by that time I was unemployed.
So, her eventual solution was a Wisconsin one: Build a bar, just like her brothers had.
My current idea of love is not too far off from what it was when I first fell in love. Okay, so I fall in love with women that have alterative motives. But, I’ve seen most of them. And they get old after time and become easily spotted.
I’m not fast on the uptake when it comes to relationships. It doesn’t mean that I’m socially stupid. I don’t know what it means. But, it means that when I get to know some one, I spend a little time with them.
Everything is relative. Everyone’s idea of love is relative to everyone else’s idea of love. In order to objectively describe anyone’s (much less everyone’s) idea of love, you must understand that it explodes! Some of my personal examples may explain how love can be exploited, desired, and even needed (heaven forbid).
People talk about levels of love…mostly women. But, in this case, June thinks like a man.
To this day, June W. keeps my same last name and has never considered ever marrying ever again. It’s not out of respect or loyalty. It’s because she’d tired of moving on. She’s more comfortable being honest about being a slut.
-- Without Wax