Pancakes and Shopping Trips ....... And ne'er the two shall meet
We had a Saturday morning ritual in our house. My wife went shopping and I cooked pancakes.
She hated them and I didn't so I cooked them on Saturday mornings when I could relax and enjoy them while she was shopping.
It was almost 11:00 and I was standing at the stove cooking when the heart attack struck and I fell to the ground. I was down long enough for the pancakes to burn and set off the smoke alarm, which in turn alerted my neighbor who in turn found me and called 911.
When I awakened the next day in the hospital, I was connected to a myriad of wires and tubes. I had survive "The Widowmaker".
I was told that if you're fortunate enough to survive a heart attack of that type, recovery is slower than with other types of attacks. I was also told that it was common to have mental health side effects. For example, onemay experience anger, irritability, fear, insomnia, feelings of guilt, and hopelessness as well as other feelings and emotions.
Depression was a major problem for me.
When they finally released me, I was happy to be going home. Our den, which was on the first floor of our house, had been converted into a room for me. My wife, JT, and I used it as a den, but it was really an extra bedroom with its own full bath.
My name is Benjamin Fredericks. We called my wife JT, but he name was Joanie Teresa Fredericks, nee Wilkerson and we had been married six years at the time of my heart attack. I am the manager of one of the branches of a major bank. I started working there as a loan officer right after graduating from college, and had worked my way up. If the bank had a fast track for promotions and assignments, I must have been on it because I was named branch manager several years before most others.
I met JT when she came in to apply for a loan for a house she wanted to buy. She was in real estate and ran across a house that was a very good deal, so she decided to buy it for herself.
Both JT and I were, and still are, pretty average in the looks department. We differed, however, in personalities. While I tended to be businesslike and somewhat formal, she was gregarious and fun loving. I stress the fun loving because she definitely enjoyed life. not that I didn't, but our definitions of fun differed somewhat. My idea was a nice quiet evening at home, while her definition was a nice, loud boisterous evening surrounded by friends, food, and drinks.
I enjoyed the occasional party, but JT made a fine art out of it.
Over the years, we'd managed to strike a balance and both of us were pleased with our lives. That all changed with the heart attack.
I had been in the hospital almost a month and home a week when JT came in and started making sexual overtures. She reached under my sheet and started playing with my dick.
"When is he going to be ready to play?" she asked.
"I don't know. Soon I hope," I said. "It's been a long time."
"Too long," JT said.
That became a daily thing with us. While she was gone during the day, I would play with myself trying to get hard, but try as I might I couldn't.
She would sometimes pull the sheet off me and take me in her mouth trying to help me. She would also stand naked in front of me and play with herself. All to no avail.
We even tried the little blue pill, but it also failed.
It had been almost four months and physically I was fine. I could go outside and walk and exercise without any problems. I had even gotten used to the almost totally plant-based diet JT and the Doctors had me on, but best of all, since I could now climb stairs, I had moved back into our bedroom. By doing that, both JT and I thought that my ED problem would go away, but it didn't.
On more than one occasion, I had asked each of my physicians what my problem might be and was basically told by all of them, "beat's the shit out of me." Medically, everything that could be done had been done. All that was left was my mind.
I even attended sessions with a psychologist to no avail and the longer it went, it seemed the worse it got if that were possible.
My stress level stayed up. I was concerned about my mental state, but I was also concerned about JT. She was very sexual and I knew that she was impatient with my lack of ability to perform. We had tried different things like me eating her pussy or fingering her trying to get her off, but nothing worked. I recommended getting a vibrator, but she declined saying, "I need a dick, not a piece of plastic." I knew she meant it. She hadn't gone that long without being fucked since she turned 18. Her first two boyfriends took care of her until I came along, then it was my turn and I was failing.
We talked almost daily about my problem. We had both talked to counselors and tried everything they recommended, but nothing worked. One day I realized that not only had she stopped talking about sex, but she had stopped trying to get me hard.
The only reason I could think of for that was that she no longer needed or wanted sex from me. It was not a large leap, considering my depression, for me to assume that she was getting it from someone else.
I had been back to work about a month and I was never so happy to be anyplace. I was hoping the work would take my mind off my two biggest problems, my ED and JT's possible cheating, thereby helping me to overcome it but it didn't work.
It was weighing pretty heavy on my mind and I she and I should talk about it. My depression was not getting better.
One evening she came home, said hello and walked right past me and upstairs. She never stopped to give me a hug or a kiss. I followed her up and into our bedroom. "JT, we should talk," I said. She had started undressing and continued.
"What about?" she asked.
"You know 'what about'. About our non-existent sex like," I said.
"Don't worry about it," she said. She went into the bathroom and closed the door. I went back downstairs.
She never came down the rest of the evening. I went upstairs at 11. She was in bed. I took my shower and got into bed. She didn't move.
The next morning I woke up and she was gone. I searched the house, but both she and her car were missing. I shaved and dressed for work. In my heart I knew she got tired of needing sex and went out and found some. My body was broken when I had my heart attack, but knowing in my heart that she was cheating broke my soul.
At work that day, I tried to think of reasons to forgive her, but came up empty. I loved her and would never allow her to spend the rest of her life living with me and never having sex. Had she talked to me before doing it, I would have told her that we could divorce and she could do whatever she wanted.
As it was, she made the wrong choice. Divorce first, then fuck somebody was okay. The reverse was not.
I talked to the bank's computer wizard. I told him my situation and what my idea was and he provided me with everything I needed.
One night after a solo dinner of a BLT, which I knew I shouldn't have, I was in the living room watching TV. I was in my recliner and sipping on a beer. I heard her come in from the garage into the kitchen. I sat and waited.
She came in and sat in her recliner. As soon as she sat, I hit the record button for the camera my IT guy at the bank had loaned me. I picked up the TV remote and hit the "off" button. I looked at JT. "Who is he?"
She knew exactly what I was talking about and made no effort to avoid it. "He's a guy I met at lunch one day. He sat at my table and we started talking."
"How long have you been fucking him?"
"A month."
"How often?"
"As often as we can get together. Usually three times a week."
"Is he married?"
"No."
"So you go to his place?"
"Yes."
"Do you love him?"
"I'm not sure. We're very comfortable together and I miss him when we're not together."
"How does he feel?"
"He wants me to move in with him."
"Are you going to?"
"I'm considering it."
"What's stopping you?"
"Again, I'm not sure." There was a pause before she spoke again. "So where does that leave us," she asked.
"You tell me. I loved you up until about a minute ago when you admitted committing adultery. When did you stop loving me?"
