Letting Go 56

"An average man with an average life, with no motivation and no aspirations," they said.

"I don't understand what she sees in him. She is too good for someone like him," her sister said.

"At least try to earn half of what she earns before trying to boss her around," someone took a dig.

He was numb to such provocation by now. It wasn't worth reminding them that he had supported her college education. He had burned his golden years, working three jobs and managing his home. He had no life. Maybe that's why he held no value for them.

A few more days, his divorce would be final. He couldn't wait to be out of this town and far away from these obnoxious, toxic people.

She had promised to be alone when she begged him to give her a chance to explain. He had stopped trusting her long ago and knew she would not respect his wishes. As expected, she and her entourage ambushed him here. He had hoped they would plead her case, but they leaned towards insulting him.

The drama played out as she had planned. While he was being cornered, she walked in to save him. She had set the tone right and geared up to play the victim and shift the blame.

He was not interested in her lies and deceit. It was a pretty straightforward case for him. A trusting fool, blinded by his love, had allowed people to walk all over him. He pulled out an envelope. It had mementos of her sexual exploits and attainments. Her face lost its color, and she squirmed in her seat. He had no interest in making her feel guilty. His only question was to know how much of a fool he was.

"What was your body count before our marriage, and what is it after?" He asked her with a straight face. He knew the total would be three digits, but he was not interested in the truth. All he wanted to hear was some number as her confession.

She thought of bluffing, but the stack of photos in front gave her a pause. She tried to downplay, but it would be damaging, nonetheless. "Twenty-eight and thirty-two," she whispered.

She had confessed to sixty, and he wanted to match that body count. It became his new goal: to sleep with sixty different women in two years.

He got up from his seat and walked away, never looking back. Her sobs and shrills had lost power over him, but he still couldn't understand her reason. On one side, she had asked for everything in the divorce, and on the other, she wanted him to stay. She had already taken everything he considered important from him. What more could she want? As for him, he never fought over the terms and never asked for anything. All he wanted was his freedom.

As the divorce went through, he unleashed his vengeance on her and each one of her sexual partners. Well, at least as many as he could find. The ensuing drama kept the courts busy and lawyers happy for the upcoming months. His ex-wife became the target of angry wives and heartbroken lovers of the men she had played around with. She had to leave the town for her safety.

This did not calm his anger, though. The cathartic experience he wanted never happened. He wanted them to pay for their actions, but it brought him no joy. Watching their misery was just plain and dull. There was no pleasure in looking at the suffering and the destruction he had started.

It had been six months since then. He had gotten a better job, made more money, and gained some muscles, but nothing helped. New friends gave him no joy, and hobbies never gave him the relaxation he desired. The feeling of inadequacy still haunted him. He tried therapy but stopped wasting his money when they suggested forgiveness. The alcohol was good but didn't stick, but the cigarettes did. He had a new relationship that gave instant gratification whenever needed.

One year had passed, and he had made progress. His body count was four, but he had paid for both. They called him crazy as he spent most of his time talking with escorts. They had to give him pity sex to make him quiet. The escorts had enough misery and stopped responding to his calls soon. The whole experience helped him though, as he learned his lesson. He stopped complaining about his past and started listening more.

It was time to focus on his target of sleeping with sixty women. He started visiting bars and pubs. His new skill in identifying cheaters proved handy as he solely focused on that group. His well-earned reputation as a crying shoulder helped him get more pity sex. Listening to their reasons, he found his closure. While chasing his body count, he learned the mentality of cheaters.

"The gambler cheats to win, the cheater gambles to cheat." She had lost her gamble, and he had lost his dream. In fleeting thoughts, he thanked her for not having kids. As he thought about their good times together, all his bottled-up anger dissolved. The only feeling left in his heart was pity and immense sadness for her.

Only two months remained until his deadline of two years, and he had reached the count of fifty-four. Pity sex was part of history as they gave him ample experience. While he didn't have the bigger equipment, he gained the skills to use what he had. There was a lot more to seduction than the action in the bedroom. He had learned the game of using and being used. The body count had lost meaning for him long ago. He was going through the motions now, unsure of his destination.

It was early dawn as he parked the car and leaned against the door. He had been a creature of the night for a long time and sunrise was a refreshing change for him. The early rays of the sun shined on his mind as he lit a cigarette and let it help him calm down. The dark clouds that had haunted him for the past few years vanished in a puff just like that.

He realized that his pain was long forgotten and had no hold on him anymore. He was free from the shackles of the past. A look in the mirror showed a smiling man, confident and content in himself. He chuckled as he tossed the cigarette, his companion in dark times. It was time to give up the addiction and dependency.

It had been a year since then. He had dated but failed to connect with anyone. The funny thing was that he connected with a dog of his date rather than her.

So, he did the next best thing. He got a small beagle, a tiny bundle of joy with a big personality. Spending a day playing with his dog in the park was the most fun he had these days. Man's true friend and trusted companion had brought warmth to his wounded heart. Slowly but surely, the healing had begun. He was ready to try his luck in a proper relationship now.

Another year passed, and he had found a healthy balance to a fulfilling life. He had new friends, a cause to work towards, and communities to engage with. He had learned to love himself as much as he loved his life and the people he cared about. But most importantly, he had found a new love. A woman to spend the rest of his life with.

His new love, she saw him, truly saw him. She didn't judge his past but embraced his growth. She was kind, intelligent, and possessed a sharp wit that often caught him off guard. Their conversations were stimulating, their laughter infectious. He cherished the quiet moments with her, the shared silence more profound than any word.

They would sit by the window, sipping coffee, watching the world wake up. Or perhaps they'd spend hours lost in a good book, their minds intertwined. Their love was a quiet, steady flame, a stark contrast to the tempestuous passion of his past. It was a love built on trust, respect, and a deep understanding.

He woke up with a smile as he felt the sensual lips on his arousal. It had been a long night of making love and warm cuddles, but she had woken up for more. He was more than happy to indulge in his desires for her again. Being married felt good again, and maybe they would have their family soon.

For now, he was content, ready to start his day with loving kisses and affectionate hugs. He had finally found his home, a place where he truly belonged.

What happened to his first wife? He wished her well but had no interest in knowing about her.

***