There was a time — not long ago, cosmically speaking — when I as he would move from one family to the next. As long as we get something done on a honey-do list, all husbands are more or less the same as far as women in a bored married way are concerned. As he, I could look and be any man in any environment. I stayed as long as needed, recharged and returned to my comfortable abode. All of that is now lost.

“Is it fixed yet? Can I use the sink?”

There is no family to assist, virtue to erect, just a female I am staying with who has decided our mere cohabitation for a very short period means I have become part of the surroundings, like a hat, a cat, or, more accurately, a pet rat. This is not where I need to be, but it is where I am.

“Well? How much longer?”

“It’s fixed.”

“Already? That’s so sweet. Thank you.”

Her joy was sincere and it probably would have brought a man of lesser ideals pleasure, alas, it was simply a repaired sink.

“You’ll make a good husband someday,” I heard chirped before receiving a wet kiss on the lips.

Sweet sticky goodness was not enough to sway me from sharing my thoughts. “Been there, done that, many times before. Too bad I can’t do it with you.”


“What ‘what’?”

“What do you mean?”

“What do you mean, what do I mean?”

“What do you mean you can’t do it with me?”

“You can’t marry someone you live with, it never works out. You know that.”

“How old are you? You sound like my great-grandmother.”

“A brilliant woman, no doubt.”

“If by that you mean a crazy, meddling old bitch, then yeah”

“That does not sound like something a loving young woman such as yourself would say, speaking of your grandmother like that.”


“Speaking of your great-grandmother like that.”

“Forget you, she’s an old bitch. You don’t even know her, and you never will, ‘cause we can’t get married!”

“It’s too bad, I know. We are so intimately compatible.”

“Then maybe you should move out now. You said it was temporary.”

The conversation escalated to the throwing of objects. Glass was broken. I was hit by a few things. Her passions aroused — and mine — with a chuckling at her sanity. Apparently the truthful instructional words of insight lit a fuse under delusions of domestication and set her off. Strangely, she seemed to have also become sexually aggressive. Before long the violence no longer involved throwing objects, but her proclaiming her complete contempt for me and desire to use and discard me as a sexual object — apparently it was supposed to be a statement of disrespect, but as her mounting anger mounted my firm passions and she summoned the demons of indulgence from within, I could not help but realize how little regard I had for her respect.

Spent like candy chewed, sucked and pulled, but not swallowed, there was nothing left to say. We both fell asleep, and for the first time I heard her snore. Before falling asleep, I came to the conclusion I could hang around for a couple of days or so and share more with her on my views regarding relationships... Whatever it takes for her to insult me, to use me, to show her disrespect for thee. As a gentleman bent on doing good deeply, I must be willing to sacrifice the ego to allow her power as a woman to energize and envelope. Sure, there may be a bruise or two on the generous flesh of a kind gentleman, but sacrifice and suffering can help a man grow...and I am afraid, in the moment, I may have grabbed large handfuls of sweetness to help guide the destiny of good, which probably left a mark or two.

It is true, it is known, but it bears repeating: One must be willing to suffer for truth.

How did I end up here?

How do I leave that behind?

It appears the hand of fate in the guise of truth will have to continue guiding this journey, because there is no doubt, fate is doing an awesome job!