you can tell a lot about a person by how they fuck

i'm going to begin by warning you right now that this post is going to be dirty and vulgar.  if your delicate sensibilities cannot handle it, i welcome you to move along to some other waste of your time...

if you have been following my story from the beginning, you know that i have not kept it a secret that the abhorrent sex life i shared with my ex husband, the good Dr. Kxxxxxx, was one of the primary reasons for our demise as a couple, married or otherwise.  when i was in the thick of my miserable marriage, trying desperately to reconnect with my sexually frustrating husband, i had a good friend advise me that if things were not good in the bedroom, they were never going to be good outside it either.  i remember balking at that idea, that a marriage would sink or swim merely because of the quality of a couple's sex life; but now, looking back, i see the wisdom in such a tenet.  if there is no intimacy, no bond or connection beyond playing house and paying bills, there isn't really a marriage, is there?  its roommates.

sex between my ex husband and i prior to our marriage was decent, somewhat plentiful, and vaguely satisfying.  after more than a few years together, a little boredom was to be expected.  i was always the more adventurous half, and so i was always seeking ways to keep things fresh, like lingerie and toys and role playing.  my ex husband had different ways of tackling the issue, i suppose, by seeking the attentions of various other women behind my back.  however, that was prior to him developing his speedy 'little problem' in the bedroom.  i always wondered how he handled that with the other women he bedded down while with me, because surely, he didn't suddenly gain control and endurance simply with a new pussy.

after we married, the sex we did have, those few and far between occasions, became increasingly strained and strange.  my ex husband began to develop certain obsessions and fetishes that became  increasingly more difficult for him to hide or suppress.  for instance, he had always loved and enjoyed my breasts, but in the last few years we were intimate, his fixation on them turned somewhat uncomfortable for me.  he seemed to enjoy suckling, like a child...and he would even call me 'mommy'.  it was strange to hear, but in the midst of our passion, it was accepted.  it was weird and unsettling, but i understood it on some level -- his mother is a very cold woman, very impassive.  i have never seen her display anything but uncomfortable intimacies when she must.  she is restrained, with a smile always forced across her face.  Freud would have chalked my ex husband's sudden 'mommy' fetish up to his mother's lack of affection during his childhood.  i learned to rationalize away a lot of aspects of my husband and his behavior this way.

it's why i was not the least bit surprised that my ex husband went out and got himself a 'best girl friend', in the form of a large, motherly nurse who worked with us at Children's Hospital.  she was one of those nurses that kissed his ass right away, and she tried desperately for a while to befriend me (she even made some sexual advances toward me on more than one occasion while we were out socially).  when my husband wasn't getting the emotional mothering he required from me, he went straight to her.  no surprise, she had huge breasts.  she tended to his every boo boo, physical and emotional.  if he got a sniffle, she swooped in with IV fluids and would confer with his mother by the hour.  they spent a great deal of time together, no doubt recounting all his dissatisfactions with me and plotting his escape.  you could always tell when he had been talking to her, because he would grow bold and more insolent.  she was his main confidante (makes me wonder how she's coping with his new wife).  they would travel together, and then he would try to tell me that 'there was nothing sexual' between them.  right...and i'm sure her husband believed that too.

sometime during residency, my husband came to me asking for anal play -- not for me, but for him.  he admitted that he enjoyed doing it to himself, and because he knew i was sexually open minded, that i would be open to joining him in the experience.  my ex husband was right, i am open minded, and i accepted these desires of his and even happily indulged him;  it was the neurotic, shameful, and self loathing parts of him that these things elicited that i despised.  he expected me to accept these parts of him, but he could not accept them about himself...so he would come to me begging for me to fuck him in the ass, but he would be riddled with shame about it.

after a while, sex was only acceptable upon my husband's terms -- when he wanted it, where, what position.  it always began with some overt and cheesy pick up line, accompanied by an aggressive groping of my breasts.  he became sexually bold, but in a sort of condescending manner.  when that stopped working on me, he resorted to demeaning me or making me feel shitty about myself in regards to our sex life, as if this would somehow convince me to fuck him.  sex became another power play between us, another factor to be manipulated and controlled.

there was a time, very early in our relationship, before all of his philandering, before all of his neurotic, narcisstic abuse, when fucking my ex husband was an enjoyable experience.  he may not have been the kind of guy i was into, but he was cute and he was equipped, and back then, he enthusiastically engaged in our escapades with this sort of 'sweet' vigor and passion.  of course, according to him, i was his first, so it explains his genuine eagerness.  the longer i shared a life with my husband, the more i got to know him, the less i wanted to fuck him.  he began to feel like my brother and an authority figure, not a lover.

i stopped fucking my ex husband for a couple of reasons...

1. he continued to show more affection and consideration towards other women, even right in front of me, and i just decided it was time to take my dignity back.
2. he admitted to fucking a girl in my architecture program, a girl i asked him specifically NOT to go near or get involved with because it would make going to school every day extremely difficult for me.  he fucked her in my house, on my couch, in our bed, all weekend long when i was out of town.
3. he persisted in refusing to address his premature ejaculation problem that left me frustrated, demeaned, and unsatisfied.  he would orgasm in two minutes or less, and then descend into a self deprecating, tearful rant about how he wasn't satisfying me.  this, instead of just relaxing and tending to my needs too...
4. he became increasingly mean and nasty toward me, and his passive aggressive behaviors made me literally cringe and avoid him on a daily basis.  there was no way i was going to lay on my back for him and spread so he could get off and then go back to treating me like shit.

as our relationship inside and outside the bedroom continued to degrade, he seemed farther and farther away from me, and any hopes i had for rekindling and strengthening my marriage began to fade. 

the list...

1.  Morrissey
2.  Hugh Jackman
3.  Liev Schrieber
4.  Clive Owen
5.  Elvis Costello
6.  Richard Tompson
7.  Bob Mould
8.  Joe Strummer
9.  any member of The Hold Steady
10.  various Boston Red Sox

this is my ex husband's, the Good Doctor Kxxxxxx's that is, self proclaimed and self affirmed list of "men he would go gay for in an instant' -- his words, NOT mine.

he never openly admitted he was homosexual, or even bisexual, though there were plenty of indicators that i chose to ignore while others around us did not (like a penchant for inserting things into a below the belt orifice...yup, you read that correctly).  i routinely had acquaintances or friends inquire as to whether he might 'go that way', but i always poo poo'ed the idea, if only because his ego could never handle the shock of that kind of life.  and, he would never, ever be able to face his father, who's opinion and estimation were worth more than gold. he lived his life each day trying to impress his father, who only seemed moved by Jxxxxx's more successful friends.  i used to feel so sorry for him, because i knew what it was like to be desperate to make a mark with one's own parents.

but this list?  this is something he would talk about openly, whenever it came up and in front of all kinds of friends.  he thought it was a lark...he celebrated it.  now, don't get me wrong here, there is nothing wrong with the motivation behind such a list, i would have accepted this part of him openly and warmly, i assure you -- this is not just me hurling nastiness out there out of hurt and anger.  and it was the duplicity of his nature that bothered me day after day.  he assumed roles and endorsed sentiments only if they made him look good for others, or if they helped make him feel superior.  

if my ex husband thought for a second that kissing another man, or more, would garner him more adoration, he would have dropped to his knees in a heartbeat...of that, i am certain.

Honeymooning with the Boston Red Sox

my ex husband and i had a storybook wedding...

we chose to marry in the fall of our intern year of residency, because the season and halloween was our favorite time of year (and it is to this day for me, at least he didn't ruin that on the way out).  we knew what kind of affair we wanted to have to celebrate the occasion:  something classic, elegant, and very 'us'. 

my ex husband was quite actually an eager participant in the planning from the very beginning, choosing song lyrics for programs and putting together our wedding favors (a cd compilation of 'our' songs).  we even re-wrote the entire civil ceremony, including our vows, so it was a true reflection of us and what we wanted for our marriage together.  there were tons of little details that were uniquely expressive of our very long relationship up to that point, and he was there participating every step of the way...

we took a full year to plan our wedding day, handcrafting each and every detail.  we created our own Trivial Pursuit cards for each table, with questions that highlighted our story for all our guests (it was a game we played a lot, especially with his family.  in fact, every one of his family gatherings was not complete without a long and heated game of Trivial Pursuit amongst family members, and Jxxxxx loved brandishing his smarts whenever he could.  and if he lost, it was always accompanied by a little temper tantrum and some snarky excuse for why someone else on his team brought him down.  he is the worst of sore losers.).  we carved tons and tons of pumpkins, for the tables and the bars and the mantles of The Buffalo Club where we were married.  we had a special first dance to Dean Martin's 'You're Nobody til Somebody Loves You'.  the entire day and evening were filled with magic and excitement, and neither of us demonstrated any doubt that we were embarking on a very long, and happy life together.  i remember those moments standing in front of everyone we knew, looking deep into his eyes, and feeling like if we could just capture this moment of earnestness and affection between us, we would be successful.  

the day was a huge success, our families and guests were so impressed with what we did, and i still hear about how beautiful the day was from people whenever i bump into them.  i should have known it was too good to be true, because the tone seemed to change immediately once it was over.  when the night ended, we walked next door to our suite at The Mansion, where he proposed to me, and i recall that he didn't even reach for my hand when i went to hold his.  it was odd and i know i recognized it, but i let it go to the back of my head, thinking that it had been a long day, we were both tired, and maybe i was just looking too hard at what was really nothing.  by the time we arrived up to our room, that barely noticeable quirk was hard to ignore, because all he wanted to do when we got back to the room was count the envelopes and go to sleep.  NOT go to bed so that we could consummate our marriage, but go to bed so that he could sleep.  i stood there in my wedding gown, my veil still attached to my head, and i wasn't sure what to think.  i had read somewhere that no wedding night sex is not uncommon amongst newlyweds, simply because of the stress of the day, but we weren't your average newlyweds...we had been conducting our life as a common law married couple for many years prior to our nuptials, the ceremony and party were just formalities, at least for me.  

as we prepared to leave the next morning for our honeymoon, my heart could not help but sink deeper and deeper, from my chest into my gut.  my 'new' husband was all sweetness, basking in the glow of being a newlywed to be sure, but the occasional touch of hands and a peck on the cheek was as far as our intimacy went.  there was no signal from him that he was at all interested in getting me into bed.  there was great interest, however, in the World Series that year, since his precious Boston Red Sox had finally beaten their century long curse by making it to the finals.  the days and nights of my honeymoon revolved around the viewing of Sports Center and catching innings of games.  we would be out walking, and he would be fixated on finding the latest score or standings.  i tried to be as understanding as i could, not wanting to ruin the week with whining or frowning on my part.  i was a new wife, so i softened my attitude and realized what a big deal it was for him.  i smiled and even feigned happiness for him as the Sox got closer and closer to their trophy.

on our first night of honeymooning, i was determined to make it impossible for him to ignore me.  as he settled into a chair near the tv, i slipped into the bathroom and into the silkiest and most suggestive of lingerie, made sure to spray his favorite perfume behind each ear and between my breasts, and back out to introduce him to his new Wife...when i slinked up next to him, he barely turned his head.  i was met with a quick glance and a smile, and a plea to let him finish watching the scores.  i kept my cool, and tried to maintain my mood, and settled back onto the bed to wait for him to take me.  

when my eyes opened three hours later, the room was dark, the television off, and my husband was sound asleep across the bed from me.  he never woke me.  he hadn't even pulled the covers up over me for the night. 

i hid my disappointment, shoved it waaay down deep, as we boarded the plane to return home to our 'new' life as Man & Wife without consummating my marriage to the Doc.  i unpacked the hundreds of dollars of lingerie i selected for him, and placed it gently back into the tissue paper, and shoved it to the back of a drawer.  i smiled for my family and for his as we went through picture after picture of us doing everything but actually making love.  i tried to nurse my self esteem, and tell myself that we were 'not your average couple', and that we would find our groove again.  i tried not to wonder why our nuptials prompted such a change in his motivations toward me sexually, for we had a very healthy sex life prior.

i woke up each morning, and i tried to squash the little voice in the back of my head that kept whispering to me that i had just made the biggest mistake of my life by trusting my heart to this boychild that stood next to me.  it was more than two months later that we finally consummated our marriage.  soon thereafter, my previously healthy husband, sexually vigorous and fun in bed, began to have problems prolonging his climax, and he stopped even trying to satisfy me at all...

post script.  when i embarked upon my divorce, upon hearing this story, my lawyers wanted to know if my husband could be gay...as metrosexual and obsessed with his appearance as he was, i had never once really considered it possible, mainly because we had never had a problem connecting sexually, and in fact knew how to satisfy each other rather well.  it can be quite disorienting when a stranger holds a mirror up to your life, and you suddenly see something in a totally different light.  the more i considered it, the more it seemed a credible theory, though it is one that warrants its very own post, and therefore, you'll have to wait to hear all about the emotionally closeted Doc...

socially accepted prostitution...

i gave You my heart, very purely and truly from the moment i committed to You way back in 1995. i never cheated on You, i loved You, adored You, lusted after You, made sure You knew it all the time...Your first blow was choosing to bring a girl home that summer night when i had to work, march her right past Your parents and up to Your room, so that You could 'listen to music'. You and i 'listened to music' all the time up in Your room, didn't we? 

i know that i should have walked then, but i didn't. and how was my love and adoration returned to me? You joined volleyball, and then began fucking around with a skank on Your team, so much so that i had to come out to see it for myself, and after four long island iced teas, You watched me drive myself home to lancaster from angola. what a gooood and caring boyfriend You were, Jxxxxx Kxxxxxx...

Jxxxxx, even if You didn't ever touch a single one of the handfuls of girls that You have associated with outside of our marriage, it was the ILLUSION OF IMPROPRIETY on Your part that crushed me. You failed. You failed to make me see or feel Your love. Your only demonstrations of love from the very beginning were monetary and material. do You recall that first christmas? You went way overboard, and You set the tone for the rest of our lives together. it taught me that well, if i couldn't have a real act of Your love, at least You would buy me something...You created a brat in me, the way Your parents and family made a brat out of You.

see? what i have never, ever heard from You is a truly genuine apology, one that reflects that You took me and my heart and You crushed them both from the very beginning, unprovoked. no one around You knows that...how You are an attention whore so badly that You will break commitments and vows and crush people who love You deeply, just so that You can get the fix You need from someone in the moment You need it. it happened again and again, and each time, You had a choice: You could have said no, i have made a commitment to someone; or, if You did not want to be with me, and You were unhappy and just wanted out, You again had a choice to buck up like a MAN and just tell me so that we could part and go be happy. instead, You let it drag out for fifteen years. 

do you know why i really asked for the open marriage? it was not just because Your limp dick became useless after only two minutes in the bedroom...it was because i wanted to know that You would fight for me, that i was worth THAT much to You. You don't believe this, i know, but if You had simply looked at me from across that dining room table that evening when we discussed it, and said, 'i love you, you're my wife, and there is no way i'm going to let you go be someone else's...i will do my part to make you happy.' it really would have been that simple -- all of our lives together -- all i needed to see was that i was cherished and loved above all else in Your life, like i was supposed to be. i would have never moved away when i did. and as for my final infidelities to You, they were absolutely retaliatory for Your treatment of me. i'm no whore...but i am human, and i deserved to be loved and touched and satisfied just like You. You reduced our marriage to prostitution -- every single time we tried to make love, You came in less than two minutes. DOZENS of times. it was as though You were pissed and resentful that You were 'footing the bill', and You felt like i owed You something. whether it was Your sentiment or not, it is exactly how it was perceived. i didn't emasculate You...You did it to Yourself. You have to be a man with a spine and a set of balls before someone can take it from You...You never grew up and got out of that sick bed, Kxxxxxx, and i was tired of waiting for You to come join me so we could enjoy our life as Man and Wife.

i guess i am starting to realize that You -- pathetic and childlike and spineless as You are -- were my first Dominant.  my self imposed inertia in our relationship was my tacit allowance of Your horrendous treatment of me for so many years, especially in the beginning, and long before i went seeking something like that out for myself...

Who wants to buy some rings?

FOR SALE:

1 groom's platinum band, size 9. scratched up and worn, but definitely worth a few hundred for smelting down.

1 bride's platinum & diamond engagement/wedding set, size 7.  barely worn, like new.  beautiful princess cut diamond (just under 1 carat) set into a vintage inspired band featuring more princess cut diamond chips.  

$2000.oo or Best Offer.

unique trades/propositions entertained.

DISCLAIMER

this is a blog bound to be brimming with anger, hurt, bitterness, revenge, hypocrisy, and short-sightedness.

but you will also find clarity and hope here.  you will observe an evolution of heart, and perhaps of mind.

this is where my ego will find therapy...and my heart, healing.  this is where you will find truth, because nothing has ever been more important to me than letting my own truth(s) be known.

at times, you will pity me.  at others, you may delight in the craziness of my private emotional hysteria.  but maybe you will find a moment of resonance here, amidst my rantings and my ravings.  maybe you will see yourself, or someone you know (or knew)...maybe my words will be familiar to your lips, my heartache too.

i cannot use anyone's real name except my own, and i suppose no other obvious details that would give anyone's identity blatantly away.  however, this is the age of ultimate omnipotence, if you know your way around the interwebs.  and, i will be utterly frank:  NOTHING would please me more than for everyone to be able to virtually look Him up, if just to laugh and shake your head (His humiliation would be so delicious, i would eat it with a knife and fork).  so while i cannot give anything away, i will certainly NOT hide my own truthful details, where i see fit to share them here, hell no...

finally, before i embark upon the madness that these virtual pages will surely contain, i want my readers to understand that i fully acknowledge my own flaws, my faulty programming, my bad decisions, my awful behaviors, and my caustic words.  i own it all, all of me.  i take responsibility for my role in the 'process' every step of the way, and i do not seek to shuffle blame off onto everyone else around me.  my hands are dirty, and so is my soul.  scattered between my rage, you will see my self-reproach and my regret.

this is the post crash analysis, where i will spread out all the pieces, identify and categorize them, and make determinations about how it all went down.  where did it go wrong?  who was to blame?  what could have been done to avoid this disaster?  why did it happen in the first place?  the people around me, and even most of you, probably think me insane and sad for thinking that this will give me some peace.  i know you're all right...but i have to know for myself.

so join me on the journey.  reach out to me if you must, to tell me i'm nuts or to tell me that you've been there.  but know that i will not, cannot, avoid this, and i will be here until i've flipped it around and examined it from every side, every nook and cranny.  why?  because i gave You over fifteen years of me -- my heart, my adoration, my spark, my body, my head, my talents, my determination, my soul...every part of me bore Your name, and now that You're gone and doing it all over again to another poor soul, i'm left wondering what part of me was ever mine?  and what drove me to give You permission to take that much control?

no, it is high time MY truth be heard, and you'll find it here...

so, Shirley, give my greetings to the new brunette *wink wink, Doc*