Men Are Bastards

Thanks to RNebular for his editing skills. It makes an easier read when someone else proofreads my work. His skills are of a tremendous help.

This is a short story of the life of a Bastard. That would be me. Not much dialogue in the story but a humorous rendition of a guy that could not keep it in his pants. Learning the hard way that maybe he really was a Bastard. The only thing the ladies in this story had in common was HIM. Please remember, this is a work of fiction. It is intended to be a comedy simply meant to be amusing. You may not like the main character, but sometimes in real life, guys like this often tend to surface.

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Most men really are bastards. Of this I am certain most will agree. Look it up on-line and you'll get two distinct definitions.

The first definition being "a person born of parents not married to each other, as in an illegitimate child, or a child born out of wedlock or a love-child" if you wish to call him/her that.

The second definition being "an unpleasant or despicable person." A few synonyms being: scoundrel, villain, rogue, rascal, weasel, miscreant, snake in the grass, scumbag, slimeball...Well you somewhat get the idea. Since there are quite a few more descriptive words defining this type of guy we can let it slide and stop right there.

Since I am the one trying to describe the "Bastard" in this story I can only tell you about firsthand knowledge of myself and second hand knowledge about a few friends. The lines may blur a little but mostly for this story let's just pretend this is a story about myself.

I am now fifty years old, in relatively good shape, maybe ten or fifteen pounds overweight, I stand five foot seven inches tall and what is left of my hair is now gray. I wear my hair in the classic horse shoe hair cut that most balding men seem to have. I have always had an over active libido. I love the chase but not the kill. That being said, I have been married nine times and have had many times that number of girlfriends. Many of the girlfriends I have had were while I was married. Some of the girlfriends I have had were also married. Every time I get divorced I promise myself I am going to straighten my act up. By the way, my name is Eddy McDonald. I never did straighten my act up.

Starting when I was in my mid teens, I noticed girls. I could always get my way with them even if they were hooked up with some other guy. I had that tone of voice with smooth words and actions that girls seemed to gravitate to. That in of itself got my ass whipped more than once. Sometimes the same guy would whip my ass two or sometimes three times. He probably had good reason to do it too. He always had the good looking ones and I wanted to take them away from him. He was a jock and I was not. I didn't play sports nor did I play in the band, I merely existed in high school because I wanted the girls. And I got them. My grades were also pretty good graduating in high school with a ninety-five percent or 3.5 point grade average.

The captain of the football team was dating the head cheerleader (how cliché is this?) and she was a very nice looking athletic young lady. Three months after they were going steady, she was mine. A month later I absconded with the head twirler when she was going steady with one of the tight ends. The only good thing I can say is I at least knew some self-defense which probably kept me from actually getting killed. I knew how to take a punch and roll with the momentum.

When I finally graduated from high school I started going to college. Apparently the football players in college are quite a bit LARGER than those I dealt with in high school. After my first ass-whopping, I slowed down a little, but not much. I was always on the prowl for a good looking woman to keep me company for the night.

During my sophomore year, I married Mary Sue. At that time I had three other girlfriends in the wings. Mary Sue and I lasted six months when she came home early from class and found me in bed with her best friend Sue Ellen. Mary Sue walked out and her parents had our marriage annulled. Sue Ellen and I decided to get married three months later. She thought she was with child. It was either a false alarm or a ploy, but I did not care one iota and I left her. Well I reckon that makes wife number two gone!

During my junior year in the institution of higher learning I met and married wife number three. Think about this, three wives in just under three years. Thinking back she should have been a little more leery of me because of my reputation. I really do believe she thought she would be able to tame me. I just could not keep it in my pants. Since wife number two claimed I was the father of her unborn child, I started wrapping that wascal more often. Two months after our nuptials she found me in the parking lot of the school, in my back seat, getting a little oral action from a coed. BANG, wife number three is now history. I haven't even graduated college yet.

I was going for a liberal arts degree in sales. I knew I could sale myself to women, but could I learn to sell for a company? That is what I kept asking myself. I did my very best not to get serious about any one girl in particular. I would date them two or sometimes three times if they were really good. I would move on to the next conquest. There were many conquests to be had in college. Only now they were coeds, but there were also professor's wives to be had.

One of my professors came home early, to find his wife and me in his bed together having sex, and he damn sure wanted to hurt me, bad! Since he and the football coach were close friends I now had half the football team on my ass. I transferred to a different college in a different state, two hundred miles south. For my health of course!

By now I had somewhat of a bad reputation and the word got around to keep your wife or your girlfriend locked away from me. I would go to some frat party and the frat brothers would very politely ask me to leave. Of course they would have some sort of persuasion weapon in their hands, be it a baseball bat, night stick, tire knocker or some other device in their hands that would help me to decide to leave. I got the general idea and retreated gracefully. I was, after all, a lover not a fighter. Discretion is generally the best part of valor. I had adopted the motto "He who runs away, lives to love another day".

Two months before my senior year was up I met another married lady. She was the wife of the company CEO I went to interview for a job in sales. The CEO, his wife and I went to lunch and had a very enjoyable meal. She kept rubbing her stocking clad foot on my leg under the table. Shoot, I was just a guy wanting a job, well maybe her too now. We had a very amiable lunch and afterwards we parted ways. Two days later I was offered the job to begin right after graduation. I had accepted the position.

I wanted to do a good job to prove, not only to the company but to myself, that I could handle this type of position. Apparently his wife had some say-so in what I would be actually handling. After being on the job now for only four months, I was sent out of town for a sales presentation to a company they wanted to land. I should have been gone only three days. I was gone for the entire week. I did land the account.

When I checked into the motel, I registered and went to my room. An hour later, there was a knock on the door. I thought it might be room service because I had ordered some snacks. I opened the door and there stood Angela, the CEO's wife. Of course I invited her in. I asked her if there was something wrong and she started stripping before the door was even closed. Our affair lasted all of ten months which is when her husband found out. I got released with an outstanding reference in regards to my job. Angela may have had a say so in that. Time to move on.

I landed my next job four hundred miles away working for a company that sold virtually the same thing. I knew about their product because it was in competition with my old company so I was a shoe in for the job. The HR guy did ask why I left after only fourteen months on the job. I merely informed him that I felt the job at my first company was a dead end. All the other sales guys had been there for at least twelve years and did not plan on moving any time soon. He brought the subject up, I lied and I began working for them the following week.

Shortly after throwing myself into my job I did meet another married lady. To hear her talk, her husband was a real loser. All she did was bitch, bitch and bitch about him. I added fodder to her already burning fire, and after only a month we went to a motel. I know what you are thinking now, what a prick. (Please see other definition's of "Bastard".) Instead of helping her out, I drove the final wedge into her marriage. So what, I didn't care. Add another notch to the old bed post.

I had somehow managed to stay single now for four years. I got the itch. I married another lady from the company I was now working for. This is wife number four. Her name was Marla. We were in different departments and there was not a problem as far as us being together. We didn't break any company rules so off to the races we go. At her insistence, we got into the alternative life style. WOW, can you believe it? I get to have as many married women as I want now, and add that to the fact their husbands were freely giving them to me, this was a pussy hound's dream come true! Unfortunately wife number four decided to continue to swing or swap and carried on behind my back. One of the other wives caught her and her husband having sex in their swimming pool one afternoon and threw the electric radio into the pool, while it was still plugged in. Killed them both, it did. She confessed to it and she went to jail.

Sometime during this entire chain of events I had to learn how to cook. I actually enjoyed it. I also got pretty good at coming up with ideas of changing a few of the recipes and that would alter the flavor a little. Most of the time it might enhance the flavor but sometimes not bring out the flavor I was after. Well at least my dog ate well.

Wife number five came along at a particularly slow time in my life. I was somewhere in the neighborhood of forty now and getting a little lonely. All the women in the condo either knew me, or knew of me, so pickings there started to dwindle. I was cooking some steaks on the B-B-Q one Saturday afternoon and a neighbor came over to introduce his wife's sister. Beth was hot. All I can say about her is "this would certainly make a good looking NEXT Ex-wife". They tend to not stay around long.

Even though I did my share of women surfing on the internet, I would not put up with one doing some men surfing. Beth and I got married and within three weeks I already had a new girlfriend also. Two months later she found out about it and she started fooling around herself. Well I was not going to put up with a cheating wife. Yes, I may have been the one that started the fooling around but I would not put up with her fooling around. I knew I had to do something. She liked chocolate cake. So I baked her one. Actually I baked two cakes. One was a German chocolate cake, which I liked, and the other was a chocolate marmalade cake. She loved the marmalade. She didn't really care for the German chocolate cake which was good. I liked German chocolate the best.

When she got home from work that Friday, I presented her with her most favorite dessert in the world. Chocolate Marmalade Cake, (laced with a chocolate laxative). She wanted a piece of it then but I convinced her to save if for the weekend. It was only a day away. I told her that I had to go out of town for a sales meeting, at least that's what I told her. I knew she would have her new boyfriend over and I figured they would eat the entire cake too. I have to admit, I was a real good cook.

When I returned home the following Monday morning, the condo smelled like warmed over shit! The carpet had a few new brown stains near the main bathroom. The master bathroom had some sort of brown stuff still inside the tub enclosure. I'm sure that is where the odor was coming from. The shower drain seemed to be clogged up with something too.

She may have figured out what I did to sabotage her weekend because she found the laxative packaging in the garbage can. She also filed for divorce. I let her have it on grounds of incompatibility. She and I lasted a total of seven months. Hell I ain't even forty-one years old and I have had five wives now, but only if you count the ones I was actually married to. Well OK, forty or fifty if you count the other men's wives. Some women are just not meant to be married. I know it could not possibly have been me.

Time went by fast. It was only two months after Beth divorced me that I met Sharon. She was a real looker. A trophy wife if I ever saw one. We dated for four months when she asked me to marry her! I never had any woman acting this way before. I really believed she wanted to marry me, not the money I had accumulated. Again I was wrong. After only three months she had spent almost eight thousand dollars and was in the process of another shopping spree when I called her on her new cell phone. I told her she needed to come home. Something came up and I needed to talk to her in person.

She paid for her purchases and came home. I discovered this trip had just set me back another thousand dollars. Couple that with the previous amount and there was nine thousand dollars in just under four and one-half months. I told her it would have to stop. She pitched a hissy fit. She said "You don't love me anymore". Hell did I really love her or her body. I knew I loved money more.

Well I told her no more shopping. Her credit line was cut off. She upped and left. I got a divorce attorney and filed the next morning for irreconcilable differences. She got what she came in with and I also gave her all her new clothes. Adios to number six.

I was coming up to my forty-fifth birthday and was considering the remainder of my life to live as a divorcee forever. At least until I met Cheryl. She was sweet, charming, cute, divorced, had two kids and lonely. Since I have never had any children I thought she might like to loan me hers, temporarily at least. I knew she would come with baggage but I figured I could get past all that. What man does not want kids? I knew I was too old to go on and have my own. With Cheryl I could have two kids and a wife. Sounded like a good combination to me.

We dated for six months. She wanted to take it slow. OK I was still actively sleeping with a couple of other ladies so I didn't really care that we took it easy. One night after bringing her home from a date she invited me in. She then told me her kids were gone to their father's house for the weekend. OK, as the song goes, "Tonight's the night, everything will be alright". And it was just fine. She really is, or was, romantic. You'll notice I said was. Three months later we tied the knot and I now had wife number seven. I also had two extremely beautiful step-daughters. The eldest of the two was seventeen and the younger was fifteen. Both of them looked like carbon copies of their mother, only younger.

The older one was due to be eighteen in just another month or two so a party was planned for her. I knew I should have been out of town that weekend, but I wasn't. There were going to be way too many pretty girls there wearing only their bathing suits or bathing suit top and short shorts. There was a lot of leg showing and a lot of butt cheeks trying to fall out of the bottom of the shorts. Paula had a crush on me. Paula was the soon to be eighteen year old. She was way too friendly with me. What can I say, I am a pussy hound. If I could hang the horns on some guy I would. If I could score another notch on the bed post I would. Since Paula was not my daughter, well, an image of her and me getting together fit well into my warped mind. Let's just say, she started it!

Two weeks after her birthday I was sitting in the hot tub and she came out to join me. I'd seen her in her bikinis before, but there wasn't much left to see when she wore this new one. When it got wet, it became transparent. Now add that to the fact she had the hots for me, well... I guess you get the picture.

Cheryl came home early from work and caught us in the act. I thought she was going to kill me. I tried to explain to her that Paula started all this. Cheryl's line of thought was that I was supposed to be mature enough to put a stop to it before anything like this ever started. Divorce number seven was finalized six months later. It's a good thing all I had to do was pay alimony for another three years before the youngest daughter would reach eighteen. Oh yeah, she also kept the house until then too.

Now I was nearing age fifty. This is where the story started. Seven wives of my own, numerous other wives belonging to other men and many, many girl friends would tally up to over a hundred women in my life as bed partners. Some of them were good, some really good and just a few, well, not so good. At least I still had my health. I still had most of the money I had saved over the years. Paying some woman to leave you was more costly than paying some woman to marry you. The economics of that equation sucked! I was wondering what I was going to do next.

I think I just spotted the next Mrs. McDonald. I'll get back to you.