Prologue
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vx2u5uUu3DE
“It is now or never”…. I keep listening to this song over and over but “now” somehow stretches for two years. I almost thought it would be “never”.
Then I actually did it.
At certain times in my life, I have been crazy about someone. That is how I know if I love her; simply put - if I am crazy about her. For a long time, I have been a calm walking corpse. Life for me is to carry on what I am supposed to do. Nothing excites me, no one makes me crazy.
This is my life: I am a love animal. I have to love someone, madly; and being loved by someone, hopefully, if there is anyone.
Given the above facts about me, you probably already know why most of my life so far is too messed up to be fixed. For me, nothing is more wonderful than a lovely woman whom I can read, taste and enjoy. Not money, not fame, not prestige, not power, absolutely nothing else is more important. So I give it up and let my life take its own momentum. Let me tell you my story backward, so you can have the ending of the story and some threads, in that way I will let you figure out why I am who I am today.
What am I? You decide.
(1) Divorce
I want a divorce, as badly as I wanted to get married 15 years ago. People may find all kinds of excuses to divorce someone, pointing fingers in an effort to make their own conscience clean. My reason is simple: I don’t love my wife any more. And I don’t sugar-coat it. I say it right in her face that I don’t love her, that I want to end this unhappy marriage and that a divorce is the best solution to stop this torture.
It takes me two years to think through it and gather enough courage to say it, which she doesn’t take too well, because she still loves me. I first broached the news to her when I was having my last pack of cigarettes, a lousy habit which I picked up two years ago, with which I did not mind killing myself and which, now, I decide to quit, feeling I don’t really need to smoke to bury myself in a delusion.
I remember the night I went out of the house with her to have this chat. It was chilly with the tail of the winter still swiping Toronto from time to time. Before she asked me anything, I quickly lit up a cigarette to calm myself. I have never done this before, therefore I thought a cigarette was probably my best ally under that circumstance. I burned three cigarettes in a row until my lips numb, and then I said I wanted a divorce. She asked if I was seeing another woman and I said no, but there would be someone in my life. Like all the other *****s, I started to pile all kinds of excuses, then leave the truth at the last moment that I did not love her. Hearing what I said, she stared at me as if she'd know it was coming, her lips trembling. She asked for a cigarette, and then cried. I declared solemnly that there would be no sex, no hugging and touching, because I did not want to complicate things and confuse her. This was an absolutely serious business and I sounded very diplomatic when playing all the scenarios and my responses to them in my mind. I even envisioned her yelling at me, throwing my personal belongings onto the front lawn, kids huddling together and crying, things smashed and strewn all over the house, friends rushing to her rescue.
None of those happened. She took it rather calmly, which made me wonder if I could be murdered during my sleep. She looked at me, hands gently touching my cheeks, tears rolling down soundlessly.
“What about the kids?” Here comes the cliché, which was the most difficult part.
“We can’t separate them, but we can raise them together. You keep everything and whenever you need me, I will give you my hands. Or vise versa.”
And that was all.
But a couple of days later, we have sex. Great sex, during which I am trying to reinforce my divorce decision, of course, with tremendous difficulty.
“Before someone else can put her hands on you, I would like to claim my rights.” Before I can do anything, she already collapses in my arms, with her hands in my pants already, groping for and pulling my penis.
“Shit! We have agreed that…. no, I can’t do this….” I am mumbling and breathing heavily, but really did not do anything to stop her. Actually, I am unbuttoning my pants.
“You want a divorce, I will give it to you; but now, can we just enjoy each other?” Her hand stroking my chest, she looks into my eyes challengingly, and her body is moving closer and closer, eventually her knee forces its way into my crouch. I am cornered to a kitchen counter and there is no more space to back away from her.
This scene reminds me of raping. Women would fight furiously if they did not like the intruder. But I enjoy it. Being raped by a woman is one of my sex fantasies. I even think of putting up a fake resistance, something like pushing her away futilely, or turning my face away in disgust. What I actually have done was strip myself.
“We can make love, but I need to make this clear that we are getting divorced.”
“eh…ahen….”
“Maybe we shouldn’t do this. I am serious! Oh, shit! Are you listening? ”
“Oh, I like this. This is great….”
“But…no…yes. What? Never mind. ”
I start to become excited, but I do not forget what torture she gives me or we give to each other over so many years, therefore, I make a mental note that I will discuss it after all this madness. I quickly strip her naked and start kissing her breasts. She closes her eyes, guiding my kisses toward that little forest between her thighs. The moment I kiss her down there, using my tongue to explore, her body tenses and an involuntary moaning completely drowns my intention to treat it as a “break-up sex”, to make things worse, I am not even sure if I would do it again. But a promise is a promise. Does it also apply to women? As I use all my senses to please her, this is the question on my mind all the time. I feel like a whore and I am using my body to bribe her. The dilemma is if the sex is great, then she probably will change her mind; if our sex is lousy, will she be too upset to divorce me? She knows how good I am. I can’t fake it. Then I make a decision to make it a great sex. I don’t howl when I am making out with someone, but this time, I am making all kinds of non-human noises, which I have learned from watching porn.
I don’t know who else is trying to get a divorce during a hot sex. I don’t care. Whatever it takes, I will negotiate my way out of this marriage through making love to her. How do we end up like this? I can’t explain it. Let’s start from the time I met her.
She is a crazy woman, which is exactly the reason I fell in love with her 15 years ago, which is also exactly the same reason I am trying to get away from her now. People usually say how well they know their spouses after so many years. I seriously doubt it.
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