Welcome to my latest story. There's very little sexual content, and there are definitely no characters under 18 engaging in sexual acts.
There will be four chapters posted. All are completed and will appear in sequence with a day or two between. Please provide a rating and I welcome comments. Your thoughts are what I need to improve.
*****
Life is Too Short
Life is too short if you're enjoying it, but when every day sucks it can seem far too long. As things were, time for me was crawling at a painful snail's pace. Every day seemed longer than the one before. Somehow, I had to make my life stop sucking.
*****
"Get me a glass of water with ice!"
Ahh... the shrill commands from Pam Young, the love of my life. Her directives defined my existence. "Do this! Get me that!" No sweet sounds of love. No shred of courtesy. Not even simple manners such as "Please" or "Thanks." If she acknowledged my compliance at all it was usually in the form of criticism. "Took you long enough," or "I didn't want that much!" Then there was my favorite phrase of gratitude with which she'd often reward me: "Can't you do anything right?"
So I learned that compliance was futile.
Oh, I went through the phases of responses. At first, I just did what she asked and absorbed the disrespect. That didn't spark any improvement, so then I started to argue or fight back. My favorite response was, "Bitch, get your fat ass off the sofa and do it yourself. You need the @!#@*$% exercise!" Of course, I never cursed, called her names, or resorted to cruelty, but the words that often lingered in my mind and were dangerously close to escaping. The most I would say is, "No. Get it yourself." I learned that this was not going to stir her conscience and cause her to revert to the sweet girl I married.
That brings me to the final phase of my responses. Actually, the final phase has two parts. Early on, I just ignored her, but I found the bellowing got louder and stronger. I'm now in part two of the final phase. I ignore her and, if things escalate, I leave the room or the house altogether. Still, she's not getting the message.
With her latest command to fetch water, I decided to wander to the bar two blocks away. Sure, it was only 10 AM, but you can't spend the day drinking if you don't start in the morning. Besides, I had my morning eighteen-mile bike ride and I deserved some empty calories. I closed the front door and the shrieking tirade faded into the background. The annoying cacophony was replaced by singing birds, barking dogs, and the glorious white noise created by distant heavy traffic.
"Hey, Ted! You're early today."
Now that was a sweet voice. Benny, my favorite bartender, never failed to improve my mood.
"Whatta ya havin'?"
"How about coffee and a fried egg sandwich?" The walk to the bar had reinvigorated my common sense and my commitment to healthy living, so no beer... yet.
"Comin' right up."
I sat and contemplated what my life had become, and how depressing my retirement years appeared to be developing. I guess it showed on my face. When I was still working I could find joy in achieving things, mingling and interacting with people, and just having fun doing what I enjoyed. Life rolled along with time seeming to fly. But, now? Every day was slow torture. I couldn't really do the fun things I had planned for retirement. I was anchored at home with a stranger living in the old and abandoned body that used to be occupied by my beautiful, loving and sweet wife.
"Here's your breakfast, Ted. You okay, man? You're looking beat up."
As depressing as my home life was, I didn't spread it around. The only one who knew anything about it was my best friend, Dave, and even he didn't know the half of it.
"Nah, I'm good. Just thinking some things through."
"Okay, but remember, my official duty as a bartender is to listen and I'm here for ya if you wanna talk."
"Thanks, man. That's good to know."
I slowly ate my meager breakfast and resumed my personal pity party. Dave usually wandered in around noon and I knew he'd get me out of my funk.
*****
Around 11:00, I was swirling around the remains of my third cup, finding myself nearly hypnotized by the patterns it was making, when I felt a friendly hand on my shoulder.
"Hey, Ted. You're hittin' the bar a bit early today."
"G'morning, Dave. A bit early, yourself."
"Yeah. So, what's up? You okay?"
"Just contemplating my life and my marriage. I don't know if I can take much more."
"Damn, man. That sounds ominous. Let's move to a table and you can tell me about it."
I made up my mind that I was going to give Dave the full story. I needed my best friend to help me find a way to get on track for the happy retirement I'd always envisioned. I needed him to understand.
"You gonna leave her?"
"I wish I could, but it's just not in me to divorce her. I take our vows seriously. I remember the 'for better or worse' crap I agreed to. I just wish there was more of the better than of the worse. I've told you a little about what she's become, so you know what I mean."
"I've seen it a bit, but the four of us don't get together much anymore. I mean, you still come over to our house, but I can't remember the last time I saw Pam."
"Watching you and Allie together is like watching the life I wanted with Pam when I retired. I wanted to travel, do things together, you know... all the stuff people dream about. Instead, she sits on the damn sofa all day watching the idiot box and orders me around. It's her attitude and the disrespect that kills me. I don't know what I've done to deserve it. I mean, when we were younger she was always the sweetest thing and very active."
"I remember. I always thought she and my wife were a lot alike."
"Me, too. And two more beautiful women you couldn't find. But even in her sixties, your Allie is still a knockout. The change really hit Pam hard. Now, instead of looking like a five-foot tall beach body, she's like a five-foot round beach ball."
Dave started laughing even though the subject was serious, but that's how we always interacted.
"You know, I shouldn't talk about her like that. Yeah, she hasn't kept herself fit, which doesn't make sense to me. We both used to be really active, but then she just quit trying. Even with her age and how she's let herself go, I still see the pretty face I married. It's all the other ways she's changed that galls me. She's like a completely different person. She used to cook, but now she only fixes meals for herself unless she demands I get take-out. And when she does cook it's usually frozen prepared dinners. Once in a while she'll decide to actually create a meal, but when she does, I always say a prayer... not to give thanks, but pleading that I survive the food."
Dave snickered at my poor excuse for a joke, but was shaking his head in disbelief about my situation. "I had no idea, Ted."
"I'd still love her if it wasn't for the attitude and... well... the other."
"The other?"
"Shit, man. I've never told anyone this."
"What?"
"Give me a minute."
Did I want to go where I was headed? I felt like I had no choice. Dave needed to hear it all so he'd understand.
"After... well... about 12 years ago when she started her, you know, change, she refused to... damn... you know."
"What?"
"She won't have sex, damn it. I haven't gotten laid in a dozen years."
"Oh, man. Why didn't you tell me?"
"You think it's easy to admit? You tell me all the time how wonderful your intimacy is with Allie, and I'm living with blue balls."
"I know I don't say it enough, but I really hit the jackpot with Allie. And, you know, the older she gets, the more I understand how beautiful she is. She's like fine wine, only getting better with age."
"Well, Pam has aged more like milk. The older she gets, she turns more sour and chunky."
Dave burst into laughter, nearly spitting beer he had just sipped. "Damn, Ted, don't do that to me!"
"Sorry, old man. Like I said, I really shouldn't say stuff like that about Pam. I do still love her and I don't want to disrespect her, but it's frustrating as hell. I mean, listen, love isn't all about sex. I get that. But she stopped any form of intimacy. We used to always brush each other in some playful way when we walked by, but she started slapping my hand. She won't even consider helping take care of my needs and, damn it, my libido is still raging."
"Geez, Ted. Twelve years?"
"Yeah. Twelve fricken years. So here I am. I'm 67-years-old, retired, healthy, fit, full of plans to actively live my retirement years with the love of my life. Instead, I'm tied to a stranger who's more like an anchor pulling me down."
"And you don't see divorce as an option?"
"No. You know I can't do that. I can't even bring myself to find sex partners, although I threatened that a couple of times. Truth is, I was willing to live without sex because I loved her, but all the other shit has killed my feelings for her."
"So, what are you going to do?"
"I don't know. I thought about robbing a bank so I could go to prison to escape her. But with my luck, some wicked judge would probably sentence me to house arrest."
Dave politely chuckled, then we were silent for a few moments and I figured he was thinking about all the crap I unloaded on him. I was tired of that subject, so I tried to change direction.
"Okay, Dave, so enough about me. What are you up to?"
He took a sip of his beer, and for the first time in our lives I saw a tear roll down his cheek.