It was a Saturday morning, and I was up at five. Not for any particular reason, mind you. I woke up at five every day and it stuck on the weekends too. The difference on Saturdays and Sundays were the hangovers.
At 45, the hangovers hurt but I was so used to them, I didn't even vomit anymore. I was just tired and felt like crap.
Another wasted weekend.
I looked at myself in the mirror and the usual amount of disgust was there. I looked at a middle-aged man who weighed 365 pounds, had graying hair, didn't bother to shave, and didn't take his blood pressure meds way too often.
I had so many tasks and maintenance duties piling up to do around the house, it didn't even bother me anymore. I was lazy and lethargic.
I looked at my wife sleeping peacefully in our bed. I loved her more than life itself, but I felt she was giving up on me. The weight and blood pressure problems caused erectile disfunction and when I could get it up, it was only for a short time. I'm sure she was tired of me using my fingers on her. I didn't like the taste or smell of her pussy, so I didn't do oral on her very often and felt bad about that. Not bad enough to change for her though. I regretted that too.
I made a cup of coffee and opened up Literotica to peruse the new stories by my favorite authors. Nothing exciting popped up, so I hit the categories I liked. Loving Wives, Celebrity, Romance, even the occasional Incest story hit the spot. I'd get lost in the stories all day. If the story aroused me it got five stars no matter how bad the grammar was in the story.
My wife wouldn't wake up until after ten. There was no reason for her to do so. She knew it would be another day in front of the television and on our phones. My kids would get up around then as well. My seventeen-year-old son would get up around nine and eat breakfast. He'd shower then retreat to his room for the day. My sixteen-year-old son would do the same, but he'd stay in his room until he got hungry and then he'd take a shower and eat breakfast. That was usually around noon.
I tried to get them to wake earlier and go to breakfast with me, but I usually got a no on that request. My wife would join me if I woke her, but she would often be crabby later due to not getting the extra couple of hours of sleep. Often, she'd fall asleep on the couch in the early evenings which kept us further divided.
I finished the first round of stories and decided to make breakfast. I always intended to eat healthy so I could lose weight and get healthy, but between thinking about it and making it, I usually succumbed to the devil on that.
As I looked through the fridge, I saw we had green peppers and onions that I had diced up earlier in the week from another aborted attempt to food prep and eat healthy, some tomatoes that were diced up from taco Tuesday, and some black beans.
"Healthy today," I promised myself and tossed the veggies in a pan with some olive oil. After separating three egg whites, I added one whole egg and whipped it up.
As the eggs cooked, I made some whole wheat toast and grabbed the butter spray. The butter spray was supposedly made up from the stuff that settled on the top of the butter when it melted, and they said it was healthy. It had to be better than butter, so I ate it. It was good.
As usual I overcooked the eggs and swore I'd never make that mistake again, but I repeated it all the time anyway. I splattered some hot sauce on them grabbed a fresh coffee and a large glass of water. I had to stay hydrated, you know.
I changed my lifestyle several years before and lost over 100 pounds. I got disheartened because I stalled and didn't lose weight for over a month. I said
>fuck it,
and started drinking again. Drinking made me gain weight, which in turn made me hate myself. That, of course, caused me to drink more and I was stuck in a never-ending cycle of self-hate and weight gain.
I ate my unsatisfactory breakfast, added a banana that was too brown, and logged the food into my tracker app. I hoped I was starting a new lifestyle change. I doubted it.
*****
I met my wife when we were eighteen. We worked at a department store in different departments but saw each other in passing. She was an adorable brown-haired lass with a nice set of breasts that begged to be sucked. We were both virgins and had little dating experience, but we fell in love.
We dated until I finally proposed to her on Valentine's Day, after several years of her begging and getting upset with me for not asking. It wasn't that I didn't want to marry her, I was just afraid to get married because I knew that she wanted to have a family right away. She was desperate to be a mom. I loved that about her, but it scared the hell out of me.
I was an immature, bar-hopping knucklehead who couldn't keep a job. How the hell was I supposed to have a family?
I got lucky and found a job that paid a salary plus commission and felt better about having kids. I was moving up in my company and got a branch manager job. The bosses loved me and how I could come into a meeting with no reports and no notes and correctly recite the status of all of my work. I didn't know any better. I figured I'd look stupid if I had to keep looking at notes to answer questions.
Then I screwed it up. I got complacent and lazy. As the manager, I had no one looking over my shoulder making sure I was getting my job done on a regular basis. I had weekly meetings, but I faked my way through those. I couldn't get out of the rut I drove myself into. Then I got a break.
It was the fact that the owners liked me, and the general manager thought I had potential that saved me. I was offered a different job in corporate that paid a bigger salary but wouldn't pay any commission. I wasn't making any commission anyway, so I jumped at the second chance.
It was the second-best thing I ever did. We had our first son Liam a month after I changed jobs and a year later we had our second son Pete. Then shit hit the fan at worked and I almost lost everything again.
The owners made some bad decisions, profits were free-falling, and they started laying off whomever they could get away with losing. When that wasn't enough, we took salary cuts. It was devastating.
One of our laid off employees found a job at one of the big banks who were expanding in our area and got me an interview. I got lucky that they were building a new office and needed bodies in chairs. I had a big body. The interview was a formality and within a month, I was making twice what I had been, and life was looking good again.
I was good at my job and earned a couple of promotions. I kept gaining weight and kept drinking. I got the diagnosis of high blood pressure when I was 35 and did nothing about it except take my medicine somewhat regularly.
My kids were doing fine, work was going fine, and my marriage was going fine. I thought I was sitting in high clover. In reality, I was cultivating the beginning of the end.
My wife and I decided to spice things up in the bedroom. We watched porn together every Friday night. She began to give me regular blowjobs, and to both of our surprise she started to enjoy anal sex. She'd dress up in stockings, high heels, and lingerie. We'd drink wine, and fool around on the couch while watching porn. It was a great time for us, but after a while, the kids got older and the danger of getting caught was too high; we stopped doing it.
We stopped doing things for our marriage period. We didn't go on date nights, unless it was a birthday or anniversary. We didn't make love unless she was so horny she couldn't hold out any longer, and that stopped almost completely when my ED started. My drinking didn't help that either.
I knew she was drifting away. There wasn't another guy or anything like that, she wasn't the cheating type. It was just that I wasn't doing my part to keep her happy and I wasn't such a prize that she couldn't become unhappy. I was so lazy; I didn't do anything to save the implosion of my marriage.
*****
Back in the present situation, I watched nothing on television until I got the energy to find something to eat for lunch. There was lunchmeat, leftovers, frozen pizzas, soups, and tons of other food, but I ended up going to Taco Bell and gorging myself on tacos and bean burritos.
As I ate in the car, I beat myself up for another failed attempt to be healthy. I dove farther down the well of despair and went to the cigar store after finishing a lunch that would fill three people.
Twenty-five bucks later, I was reclined in my car in the Wal-Mart parking lot puffing on a Nicaraguan Puro and reading more stories. There were no more new stories that interested me, so I read some of the same stories I'd read over and over.
I was gone about two hours when my wife realized I was gone and texted me.
"Where are you?"
"Smoking."
