(What is a man supposed to do in a situation I found myself in?
My wife Debra had a fling when she was back East at college. I would have sworn that it could never happen. But from what I read here, things like this are far more common than I would have ever believed.
Thinking about it all, I really do wonder if it was inevitable, perhaps my wife and I were asking for it?
We have done a lot of things that a married couple are probably not supposed to do. July and Nikola for example, they came by and gave us massages. The kind with the happy ending? Then there is Charlene, the woman that does the waxing for us? She takes care of things also. There was that deal with Rachel, the young gal from next door that I performed oral sex on with my own wife's blessing, in fact, it was her idea. The Mayor's wife, that one was not Debra's idea.
Down in Reno, five times now we have gotten those "tandem" massages, and those get very hands on?
Not exactly innocent here, am I? But Debs has always been involved, so I didn't see that as cheating. I saw it as sexy fun, easy situations to fall into when married to a woman like Debra.
But, an affair? Actual full sex? While away, without my knowledge? Bad enough there, but then not telling me about it for months?
That is cheating, a violation of trust and somehow that is a different thing entirely.
There are no marks on her, no signs at all, not physically. Debra is exactly the same loving wife she was when she went off to finish that last year of schooling.
The emotional signs are there, though. Those signs are on me, also.}
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The days are exactly the same now around our house, at least to anyone who might take the time to notice.
Debra leaves for her office, does her job. She is very good at it, also, the medical clinic seems to flow now where before it was loosely organized mayhem.
She makes a lot of money now that she is a full fledged Doctor. Way back, she had a nice income, I was getting less than a grand a month in Social Security. But I fiddled around on the internet, selling things I just happened to know and understand. For as brief period, I was making more than Debra was, and I stashed quite a bit away.
But that got to be a pure pain in the ass rather quickly, I found myself sitting in front of a PC printing money instead of enjoying my life, so I sold out and quit.
Now I wander down to the nearby café, chat with people. Some days I head out to the jetty to fish, I know my way around out there so normally I have a few in my sack. I also have a couple of those Crab rings that go on the fishing line, so I catch a fish, clean it, use the entrails for bait and flip that out there. I do manage to catch a few nice Crabs right along.
That is my life, boring as hell. Mixed in with some silly exciting moments. Those exciting moments all involve Debra. Her outlook on life, sex, living is completely different from mine, but over time, I guess I evolved into being more like her?
If this all sounds like I have done some serious soul searching, then you would be correct. I do have quite a bit of time alone to reflect on things.
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My wife Debra had that brief affair, bad enough right there but then she went months before she told me what she had done.
Months without mentioning it? To me, that is a violation of trust. Sure, she was drunk, got a contact high from others smoking weed, I guess that was supposed to be the excuse?
But she wasn't drunk of stoned after when she came home, that part still nags in the back of my mind. Months harboring that secret?
I damn near left her, I know that. It IS what a man is supposed to do when finding something like that out.
Punish them, leave them broke and barefoot out in the street, convert everything to cash and vanish to South America and shack up with some sweet young thing?
That is what happens in the stories I read here.
Revenge!! Sweet revenge, fix the bitch!
But? I love that bitch.
And, I am 72 years old, in the late stages of my life. Someone kindly explain to this old man just how in the fuck am I supposed to start over?
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I am best described as an old man now. My Debra works and I do not. She brings home an excellent paycheck, since she is now the Doctor on staff at the medical clinic. I draw Social Security, along with doing some online selling stuff, so I am not broke, not by a long shot.
I could buy a place, live by myself and be just fine. That even crossed my mind, but I realized I did not want to. What I wanted was everything the way it was before?
Debra is loving, and attentive, close to never does she raise her voice. I get to be me, there is no nagging or any attempts at all to try and make me fit some template that she expects me to fit into?
Well, except for the candy I eat rarely, those red Licorice whips? There is also my Cigar I sneak once in awhile, and the trips out onto the jetty that she nags me about.
Plus the silly sexual situations she somehow gets me into?
She is sure that I will fall in trying to catch a fish, but that only happened once and some kids dragged me back out.
She is also sexy, that by itself is rather rare for a woman her age. If anything, she is overly sexy, and seems to delight in making this old man perform in a way that some will claim is impossible.
All without the slightest hint of jealousy?
Hell, my life should be perfect. Not all that long ago, I would have said it was.
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Now, when Debra walks in the door in the evening, the very first thing to pop into my head is, did something happen today?
That is wrong, silly and I know that, but it also is there.
Over dinner, she still tells me about her day.
Before, she told me about some of the things that happen around the clinic that are mildly sexy.
Like when one local merchant, an old guy best described as a short and homely little fellow, went to see her about a sexual problem.
It seems he felt that he was too quick, Debra told me that he had the gown on backwards with his dick sticking out the front, and popped one off at her the moment she touched it for an examination. He is a bald headed little guy, a ring of curly white hair around his dome, long thin nose. He sells shoes and boots, I know because I have a pair of his Chinese made boots.
She was giggling when she said the thing was nearly a foot long, and his concern was not in being too quick with his 300 pound wife, it was with his barely 25 year old redheaded sales clerk.
The way she told me that had me roaring with laughter, so much so that I had tears in my eyes.
