Stupid is as Stupid Does

This is a study in bad decision making. I don't like long author introductions. But I wanted to thank the people who read my first effort and sent me feedback.

*****

She tapped me softly on the arm, "I'm sorry." I ignored her.

She tapped again, "I'm so sorry. What can I do?"

I rolled onto my back. I said, "We've been through this Maeve. Now let me sleep."

Grave tactical error! She threw herself on my chest, clutching hard, sobbing.

I said; long-suffering; "Maeve, there's no, 'I'm sorry.' Now let me sleep."

She held me tighter and sobbed, "I didn't know what I was doing."

I said, "You knew EXACTLY what you were doing. You just didn't think there'd be consequences. Now, for the last time, leave me alone or I'm sleeping in the den."

She crept over to her side of the bed. I rolled away, pulling the blanket up as I went.

I lay there for a count of ten. Then I angrily shoved the covers back, and slipped on my robe.

She was still lying huddled weeping quietly into her pillow.

I went downstairs and plopped into a chair. She didn't follow - Thank God!!

I needed space to think.

~

It started with an argument. Maeve wanted to go to a party and I didn't. We live in a neighborhood of unreformed frat-rats and sorority skanks. They might be married. But, you couldn't tell it by their behavior. The flirting, groping and outright infidelity was epidemic.

Maeve's special, a tiny supple body, with big Mick tits, red hair, a Maid of Erin face and freckles. More pertinent, she likes male attention. She's a drama queen; and she can frequently convey availability. She says its harmless, every woman does it. But, I didn't like how she acted when she was around that group. And I shared that with her.

She told me that we were going to the party; or else! I told HER that it wasn't going to happen. She said, "You don't tell me what to do!!" I reminded her who paid the bills. She told me I could fuck myself. Then she stomped upstairs.

A little later I heard her come downstairs. I was reading in the den. The closing of the door didn't register. I read for another two hours. It finally dawned on me that only other creature in the house was the cat. I got up and checked. Yep, Maeve wasn't there.

I called. It went to voicemail. I scratched my head. Where the fuck did she go? Then it hit me!! Two blocks later, I was pounding on the Larson's door. Nobody heard me. The music was too loud. I opened the door and walked into a dimly lit room. It reeked of weed and treachery. Drunken couples were dancing, and making out on the couch; no Maeve.

I walked into the kitchen, where I ran into Tad Barlow. He's a d-bag. But he knew where Maeve was. Actually, he said, "Billy my-man!! That's one hot little bitch you've got there." He gestured in the direction of the patio. I assumed that Maeve was the hot bitch in question.

I found ten people yukking it up around a fire-pit. All of them were watching my wife, who was, sitting on Russ Jamison's lap. She was moaning and squirming on the douchebag's giant hard-on. He was working on her enormous Irish tits. Her nipples were so extended, it looked like he was rolling a blunt.

Jamison must have loved bagging Maeve. He's almost my height but he's twenty pounds heavier. It's blubber but he likes to think he's a badass. He has a particular thing for me. I mostly ignore him.

I said loudly, "Come on Maeve. We're going home." That snapped the two adulterers out of their little reverie.

She looked at me defiantly and said, "Party pooper!! I'm having fun." I grabbed her like an unruly child and yanked her out of Jamieson's lap. She stumbled drunkenly and almost fell into the fire. I had to hold onto her, just to keep her from falling in.

Jamison came roaring out of his chair. He yelled, "The lady said she wants to stay!!" Obviously, Russ and I were experiencing a breakdown in communication. I parked Maeve, and turned toward him.

I don't know what it is with macho types. Maybe they've seen too many Rocky movies. But they always get into a boxing stance. I had no desire to prove my manhood. So, I deflected his first roundhouse right and kicked him so hard in the dingle-dangles, that his dead grandfather screamed.

Jamison got this utterly astounded look on his face. It was like, "That wasn't fair!!" As I said, we had differing expectations. He hit the ground face first and pissed himself; oh, how embarrassing!!

Unfortunately, he had landed close enough to the fire that his hair began to singe. I'm a good guy. I grabbed his legs and dragged him backward, adding a second kick to the nuts; just to reinforce my displeasure.

I turned toward Maeve and said, "I'm going home." She followed me, bitching every step of the way.

She went off, the minute we got in the door, "How could you embarrass me like that??!!"

I thought to myself, "Lord give me strength!" I said angrily, "Let me get this straight. I find my wife dry humping the local pussy-hound while he plays with her titties and you think that I've humiliated YOU?"

She stopped ranting and looked at me surprised. I never shouted at her. Maybe I SHOULD have. I snarled, "You've got NO respect for me whatsoever."

I turned to walk away and she shrieked, "What's the matter with you. We were just playing. It wasn't like I was blowing him, or he was fucking me. Since when have you become such a prude?"

I turned slowly and said, "That kind of intimacy is across the line and you know it. If his hand wasn't up your dress, it would have been shortly. You held me up to ridicule in front of that entire collection of assholes."

She had the good sense to look guilty. At least she wasn't as stupid as she'd been acting. I said, "There is no point in being married to a woman who can't obey the laws of common decency."

She looked like it was finally sinking in. She said, "Okay, I might have gone a teensy bit too far. But I was mad at you and I probably had too much to drink. I'm sorry. It won't happen again." She looked pleased with herself. It was like she'd settled the business.

Now it was my turn to look astonished. I said, "You disgraced yourself and me, in front of nine other people, and you think that you can fix it by saying you're sorry? What kind of moron do you think I am?"

She continued to look puzzled. I decided to enlighten her. I said, "This has nothing to do with adultery. It's about whether I can trust a woman who thinks that she can do anything she wants without costs."

Maeve laughed and said, totally sure of herself, "You love me. You'd never leave me."

Okay, I got it. She thought that she could leverage me by acting like a slut. When did my wife morph into a petulant teenybopper?

I said, "People who love each other don't sneak out to a party; strike one. Married women don't do what you were doing with THAT asshole; strike two. And finally, you refuse to believe that any of this is your problem; strike three. There aren't four strikes in baseball."

She was beginning to look a little worried. She said mystified, "I don't understand? Why've you suddenly got a wild hair up your ass?"

That was a good question. By this point in the marriage, I should be used to being treated like shit. Neither of us understood why the other was so dissatisfied and stubborn. Maeve craved action, drinking, dancing and socializing. While I just wanted to rest from a hard week's work. She bitched; and I took my lumps. I really couldn't see any other alternative.

We had met at a party. She dumped the guy she was with; and we spent the weekend trying out every position in the Kama Sutra. Maybe I should have thought a little bit more about what that might presage?

We fucked constantly. It was always wild. So, I married her. I was a kid. I'd confused lust with love. Afterward, Maeve's life didn't change. She fucked me and I gave her money. She enjoyed fucking. The problem was that, I didn't enjoy the exhausting effort it took to make the money.

This current discussion was a waste of time. I would get more understanding from a six-year-old. So, I said, "I'm going to bed." A half hour later, she slipped in next to me, huffed once, and rolled herself up in the blanket. I'd been put in my place.

The police stopped by to talk. I told them that I had just retaliated for being punched. That was what everybody else had told them. So, it was clear that it was a courtesy call. I spent the weekend being anywhere but where Maeve was.

I worked in the yard, took a shower and played a round of golf. It was 6:30 when I got home. The house was empty. There was no note. So, I called her. Her phone went to voicemail. This was getting ridiculous.

I grabbed a burger at the Swamp; that's a bar and grill not an actual wetland. I watched a game on TV and had a couple of beers. Maeve's phone was obviously turned off. I was not pleased.

I was on the way home when I passed another rat-pack party. It looked like the good times had rolled over to Saturday. The lights were on and you could hear the loud music. Inspiration struck. I parked at our house.

I hopped the back fence and walked down several houses. They had a row of tall bushes next to the privacy fence. I made my way along a gravel divider between the bushes and the fence. I emerged from the shrubbery, when I got to the party; and almost tripped over a couple taking advantage of the darkness.

They were very enthusiastically making the two-backed-beast. I thought, Mr. Blake and Mrs. Butsikakis would be very upset if they knew what their spouses were up to. She was arched into a bow; holding her legs by the knees while he pounded her. She was going "Ahhh-Ahhh-Ahhh-FUCK-ME" loud enough that the dead had difficulty sleeping.

I didn't linger. I suspected I'd find Maeve somewhere in the middle of the orgy. I entered the house through a little utility room. It was dark. Disco lights were the only illumination; I thought, Seriously???!! Disco!!??? The music made my ears bleed.

I scanned the churning mass on the dance floor. There was no Maeve. I looked along the row of couches. There was STILL no Maeve. I went upstairs. The bedroom had two couples in it. The smell of sex was everywhere and the moaning was a chorus of infidelity.

One couple was on the bed. They were doing it in the conventional missionary position. The other was doing it doggy-style. The woman was face first over the couch, arms braced on the cushions, legs spread, and butt hoisted for maximum penetration. The guy had her hair in a ponytail, bending her into an arc. He was furiously pounding her round little buns. The room was filled with the sound of wet slapping.

She was moaning and grunting, "Ungh!! Ungh!! Ungh!!" Then she yelled, "OH MY GOD ... DON'T STOP... I'M CUMMING!!" She went off on a bucking orgasm that almost broke the connection between the two of them. He grabbed her by the hips, thrusting himself to the hilt; and let out a loud "Ahhhhhhh!!" Then he collapsed on the woman's back. The woman moaned rhythmically; while her cheating kitty received its present.

That prone position made kicking him so much easier. I took a jab step, like an old-fashioned field goal kicker, and drove a sixty yarder. Given my fascination with Jamison's testicles, you might think that I was developing homosexual tendencies. The fact was, his balls were the most convenient place to inflict maximum pain. He shrieked, drove violently forward and hit-heads with Maeve. The collision knocked them both out.

I began to consider my situation. They were either stunned, or maybe out cold. Maeve was lying face down on the couch. That was where the force of the impact had driven her. Jamison was lying with his face more-or-less buried between Maeve's ass cheeks. I hoped he didn't suffocate.

The other couple was loudly cumming. They didn't know I was there. I didn't want to cause myself any MORE grief. So, I just disappeared into the night. I was walking across my back yard when the police called. They told me to come to the emergency room. Apparently, my wife had an accident.

I was distraught when I arrived; or at least I was PLAYING distraught. A cop motioned me down the hall. I said, "My God!! What happened? Was it a car accident?" Yep, I'm a slippery son-of-a-bitch. He gave me that cop stare, like he knew all my secrets, and said, "Where were you between 9:00 and 10:00 tonight?"

I fudged it. I said, "I was at the Swamp until 9:45, got some gas. I got home, just as you called. When was that; about 10:30; right?" It was 10:15. I figured I could slide fifteen minutes. He bought it. The cop said apologetically, "Your wife was found unconscious. She was with another man. When we encounter something like that, we look at the husband first."

The other couple must have discovered them after they came to the thrilling climax; so-to-speak. I wondered what they'd tell THEIR respective spouses?

I could have played the reaction a couple of ways. I could have given him devastated and betrayed. But that's sooooo cliched; better, indignation. It's much more convincing.

I said, "WHAT, with another man???!! Were they having sex???!" A guy who had just put his cheating, slut wife in the hospital wouldn't be THAT blatantly clueless. The cop said, "Calm down sir. Yes, they had apparently just finished having sex. But you can't do anything ill-advised. We prosecute people for that." He bought my story!!

I said, acting chastened, "Thank you Officer, I understand. Can I see her."

He said, "She and the man are being examined for concussions. She'll be released once they get the CAT scan and confirm that there isn't anything serious."

I took her home without saying a word. She knew how badly she had fucked up. Talking would only make it worse.

She plastered herself on me as soon as we walked in the door, crying like her heart would break. I didn't buy it for a second. I pried her off me, led her to the living room, and plopped her down in a chair. I sat in a chair on the other side of the living room and said, "Talk."

She sniffled, "Russ came by while you were out. He said he wanted to apologize for that unpleasantness last night. He was surprised you weren't here."

I thought, "He probably staked out the house."

She added, "I went along to the party with him, just to show him how sorry we were that you'd hurt him." My look warned her not to go there. I wasn't an imbecile. I knew they were getting their unfinished business out of the way,

She said her voice dripping with reasonableness, "We danced and drank. Then we started making out on the couch. It was just a little harmless flirting."

Making Out???!! Just Flirting???!! Really???!! Peddling that load of shit was insulting!!

She said nervously, "Well, we got a bit carried away and we must have hit heads, because we knocked each other out." She sat back looking satisfied. She had explained herself. Now we could get to the part where she fucked me into compliance.

I didn't know what was worse. Her screwing that asshole, or telling me that little fairy tale. I said innocently, "I don't understand. How did you hit heads? What were you doing? Why were you that close?" She didn't want to answer that.

I said, "Oh I get it, you were fucking. The cop said that you were found naked with him on top of you and his cum drizzling out of your adulterous pussy." She looked horrified. How did I know that?

She tried a little deceit. She said, "A policeman would never use language that crude." Clever girl, but it wasn't a denial.

I said, "So what WERE you doing?" She looked like she had swallowed a pigeon. It was fun watching her twist.

She gulped and said lamely, "We were kissing."

I said skeptically, "In the dark, in the bedroom? You were JUST kissing?" She nodded.

I said, "Then who knocked you out?"

She said, "I don't know, one moment we were kissing and the next I was unconscious."

I said, "Do you have any idea who did it." She shrugged. I was beginning to get the impression that she thought it might be a jealous lover; not moi. I added one NEW count to the indictment.

I said puzzled, "And the force of the blow knocked your clothes off?" That was the killer. She had been brought in naked. I thought, "Explain THAT bitch!!" She just looked at me, beaten.

I said, "You know Occam's razor; right?" She nodded, miserably. I said, "Isn't the simplest explanation, that you were humping each other so brutally that you hit heads, probably when you both came?" She looked horrified.

She said fearfully, "No, no, that isn't true. I only love you. I would NEVER have sex with another man." I thought to myself, "Liar, liar pants on fire."

I said grimly, "Well here's what I believe; and since I'm judge, jury, and executioner this is the way it's going to be. First thing Monday morning I'm going to file the papers. Then we are going to go our separate ways."

She screamed, "NO!!" and put her hand over her mouth. She could obviously see the gravy train pulling out, without her on it. Consequences are a bitch!!

I said sternly, "You don't love me. I don't think you even understand what love means. You've played the power game for the past nine years; one where you impose your will on me. I don't want to play that any more."

I looked at her meaningfully and said, "Love is a sharing experience, where both of us subjugate our will to each other, and the marriage. More importantly, it's a spiritual bond between two people, where they pledge to always keep each other's best interests at heart."

I continued with, "I've never fucked somebody else."

She interjected sullenly, "I never fucked anybody else either."

I thought, "Thank you God For making this so easy!!"

It was truth time. I said, "Unfortunately, I have never had that special link with you. I never cared enough to forge one. I don't love you. As far as I am concerned, this marriage was just the consequence of a bad decision. Now, your actions have freed me from that obligation."

~

So that's why I was sitting in a darkened downstairs of my house. I knew that it wasn't going to be easy. Maeve had suddenly developed a deep and abiding commitment to our marriage. Or, at least that's what she said. I couldn't decide whether THAT particular delusion stemmed from fear of failure, or the thought of having to support herself.

Either way, I was going to get myself out of a loveless marriage. In my mind, you only get one shot in life. And you owe it to yourself to spend it with somebody who wants an exclusive spiritual connection; a person who shares your values. I had experienced selfish, shallow and insensitive. Now I was going to find a life partner; a woman who understood what it meant to be in love.

I made a promise that; when I found the right woman, I would spend every day of my life letting her know how special she was. And I would dedicate myself to nurturing the link between a good marriage and a good life.