Mel Gibson and Oksana Grigorieva
It hadn't been a good summer for Mel. His relationship with his girlfriend, Oksana Grigorieva, suddenly soured. Call it a coincidence but the relationship soured, when Mel refused to marry her. After putting up with her lying, he had seen enough of her to realize that she wasn't a good match for him. Then, the final straw, what he thought was a private tiff was recorded and made public by her and her sister, Natalie.
"Those two never shut up," said Mel to his friend, Timothy Dalton, Oksana's ex-husband.
"I told you not to get involved with her, Mel," said Timothy. "She's nothing but trouble."
"By the way, Tim. You know she's lying when she said I pulled a gun on her. Right?"
"Mel, I was married to her. I don't think a day went by that she didn't lie to me. It started when she told me she loved me," he said with a laugh. "The woman is incapable of telling the truth."
"Thanks, Tim."
Oksana and her sister were always talking to the media and the tabloid magazines and selling out his privacy for money, always for money. Mel suspected that Natalie was the one who leaked his private telephone tapes to the media. What began as a personal matter in the privacy of their home, inflamed by Mel's drinking and obscene telephone calls, quickly escalated and became a public spectacle played over the Internet and in the tabloids.
What started as an argument, ended as an alleged physical altercation, resulting in his pending criminal charges of assault and battery on a woman. It all began when Mel was lying naked in bed watching his girlfriend, the supposed new love of his life, his significant other, get ready to go out, yet again, without him. Hoping to dissuade her from leaving, normally, whenever he's naked, she gives him what he wants, a blowjob, and he gives her what she wants, money. Only, this time, she didn't even look at him. He stroked his cock to a semi-erection, whenever she left the room. He wanted her to notice him and his cock. He wanted her to suck him.
"What are you doing lying there naked? Puts some clothes on," she said finally acknowledging his nakedness with a sour look, as if he were a stranger and had just flashed her. "I don't want to see that limp thing."
There she goes insulting him again. She knew how to push his buttons but hoping to get a blowjob, he let her remark slide.
"I was hoping you'd--"
"You were hoping I'd what? That I'd suck you? That I'd give you blowjob?" She gave him a disgusted look that she'd give a beggar in the street, but without giving him any money. "That's all you want is blowjob, while you play with my tits. If America knew what phony lover you are wanting only blowjobs, while playing with tits, they'd ask for their money back from your movies."
He remembered last summer, an entire summer of summer lovin', when they were first together. They spent an entire summer season making love to one another. Now, a mere year later, as if they are an old married couple, they do nothing and go nowhere together. The woman that he thought he knew, the woman that he loved and thought loved him, changed from a caring and kind lover to an evil, miserable, vengeful bitch. All they do is argue.
What happened? When did it all go sour? How could it fall apart so quickly? What did he do wrong for her not to love him anymore?
Surely it's all his fault. She tells him it's his fault every day. Yet, when he tries to fix what's broken, she tells him to either go fuck himself or to talk to her lawyer. When she's really mad at him, she tells him to go fuck himself and to talk to her lawyer. What does the law have to do with love?
None of it made any sense to him. Then, finally, after talking to those who know her and were used and abused by her, he confronted the truth. It was simple. She played him. Sure, that's it. That must be it. She never loved him.
Someone who loved him could never do such a complete turnaround. Someone who loved him, just months before, after their baby was born, couldn't treat him with so little respect and regard. Just as was falling in love, falling out of love is a gradual thing. Now he was certain that her interest in him was all just a scam to ride his coattails to get his money. Her attraction to him was never about him. Fame and fortune was all she wanted.
This was the woman he left his wife, Robyn, of nearly 30 years for and now he regretted every moment of his stupid, sexually charged decision. Thinking more with his penis than with his brain, how could he have been so stupid, so trusting, and so vulnerable to give up a diamond that he had in his wife for this lump of coal?
This was the woman he thought he loved and he thought loved him. It went bad, as soon as she got what she wanted from him, his money and then their baby. Now, she had him by the balls and was squeezing him dry, knowing she hit the jackpot.
"Jackpot, my ass. I'm nobody's sucker. I've worked too hard for all that I have," he said out loud in his drunken stupor for no one to hear.
He should have stayed with his wife. The only woman who loved him, really loved him, she was the only woman loyal to him. Why did he do that to the one person who sacrificed so much for him and to the one woman who helped him see the light when his days were so dark? She gave him seven children. What kind of man is he to do that to the woman he loved and who loved him for so many years?
Financially secure, she's set for life. He made sure of that, before he left her. Yet, the thing that pains him the most, now that he's alone and lonely without Robyn by his side, is a big chunk of his history is gone when his librarian, the keeper of his memories, his ex-wife is on the other side of the world in Australia getting on with her life with someone else. What comes around goes around, and it served him right for abandoning her for Oksana. He was wrong to have wronged Robyn like that for this Ukrainian whore, this no good, evil bitch of a woman. Blaming it on the excessive drinking, always happy, he never knew he had it so good then, until he had it so bad now.
When Oksana opened the mirrored closet door, he could see himself in the mirror. A heartthrob to millions of women, once, he was now old, 54-years-old, way past his prime, and fat. Even after stroking himself, he was unable to maintain an erection. His cock was as dead as this relationship. Already on his way to being an old, bitter, drunken man, except for some loyal fans, who were just as old as he was, he no longer received the accolades that made him feel special.
Now, he had a pot belly from drinking too much beer and a shrunken dick from drinking too much of the hard stuff. He needed his Jew doctor to check his testosterone levels, as he was no longer able to satisfy his 40-year-old girlfriend in the way that she pretended he did. Maybe, after he stopped drinking again, there was something, a hormone supplement in a pill or a cream, that his doctor could give him to raise up his testosterone levels and make him feel more like a virile man, again.
For sure, he knew that one of the reasons for his drinking and for his violent rage in striking out against Oksana was his inability to perform and the way she made him feel, when he couldn't. Without a shred of compassion and understanding, she didn't help matters any. Criticizing him, making him feel like less of a man by laughing at his inability to perform sexually, she made matters worse. She made him wish he were dead.
She made him angry. She made want to drink more. Once angry after drinking more, knowing which of his buttons to push and when to push them, he became enraged. With her fingers poised on his buttons, their inability to get along was a vicious cycle, a cold war turned nuclear.
"Ten, nine, eight, seven, six..."
