Why Aren’t You Married Yet?

FB-Ring.jpgIt’s in poor taste to ask a woman her age.

It’s sort of not cool to ask a married couple when they’re going to have children.

Why do we really care when someone is going to move out of their parents’ home?

I can list a dozen different questions in a dozen different areas of life that aren’t probably the coolest questions to ask but people ask them anyway. Let’s add one more to the list.

“When are you going to get married?”

There are several reasons why people ask.

  1. They can be family and friends that are generally interested in your happiness and they want chubby babies to hold and put on Facebook and Instagram.
  2. They can be friends that think he/she is wasting your time and they’re asking you the question so that you can see he/she is wasting your time.
  3. Their relationship sucks and they are married or aren’t married but either way they see in you two what they want so it makes them want it for you.
  4. People are just nosy.
  5. If you’re too impressive in life it intimidates people. They start to look for reasons to pick you apart. If they can’t do it on a singular level they’ll do it on a relationship level.

 

I’m not naïve to the fact that friends have conversations. That guys talk at work or in the barbershop and girls talk in group text and over drinks. I’m not blind to any of this at all, so I know the question will get asked, especially when you’ve been dating someone for a while. What I don’t get is when it comes from complete strangers or people you aren’t cool with.

My mom wants to ask me why we haven’t gotten married, it’s my mom. Her aunt or best friend wants to ask me, those are people that love me. A random co-worker that sees a picture or reads a blog wants to ask me? Who sent you? I’m not cool enough to insert meme’s into my writing but if I was I’d insert one here.

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This may sound cliché but there’s no right or wrong way to do marriage or love. I’m sure you’ll read a hundred different experts tell you they have the answers. Most of those experts have been divorced three times and probably don’t slap their wife on the ass when she’s leaving the house. Some people get married in 3 months and they thrive and some get married in 3 years, either way it’s their decision. I get it, believe me I do, we let people in our lives via Social Media and they care. I know it’s become cool to “give no f*cks” and to say, “I’m not on social media like that,” but if you have a smart phone and have to deal with Houston traffic, you probably are on social media like that.

The next time someone that doesn’t know my middle name or wouldn’t call me if they hadn’t or from me in a month asks me, “When are you going to get married?” I’m going to start to ask some questions back. “When are you going to stop commenting on pictures of women that look nothing like your wife?” “When are you going to tell your kids to stop asking to play with my phone? My games are for me, not them.” “When are you going to respect your marriage?” Nothing to shady but just enough so they understand that it’s not okay.

The Cowboys lost last night and the Texans won so that’s always good too.

Overwhelming…

black passionBiting into her skin, enough pain to bring pleasure but not enough force to bring pain. Her moans gave me life, her wetness only went to pour gasoline on a fire that was far from being extinguished. Looking into her eyes, lust, desire, fear, surprise were what I saw back. “Why did you even bother wearing panties tonight?” Is what I said while I slid them off? “Because it’s more fun this way and why are you taking them off that way, take them off them with your teeth.” I bit her belly button instead and slid my hand up and down her thighs, the goosbumps evident.

“We don’t have a lot of time while you’re trying to make love. I have to get home.” She smiled and pulled her dress up to her waist. “He’s already getting suspicious every since you left that hickey on my ass that I didn’t know about! Put it in so I can cum and I promise we’ll have more time this weekend.” Her promises only lasted as long as her orgasms. Feeling the warmth surround me, pushing in further and harder I wanted her to take the pleasure and pain and soreness back to him. Biting down on her neck, ignoring her scratches on my back I wanted him to see the marks of pleasure. She pulled my face to hers and looked into my eyes, touching herself and putting her finger in my mouth I came deep inside. “I want him to look like you,” she said even though I wasn’t even sure she would know who the father was, me, or her husband.

Taking Another Man’s Wife VI

Raquel

Men were simple, he told me he was going to be out of town but I log on to Facebook and his location on a status says, ‘Near Houston, TX.’ So why would he lie? I had a husband so I wasn’t trying to keep track on two men, he didn’t have a reason to lie to me. Sitting by the pool my mind was going in a million directions, telling my husband I lost the baby made the most sense. Even if he got me pregnant today I wouldn’t know for sure for another five or six weeks. And considering I’d let that bastard cum in me I wouldn’t even know if it was my husbands.

Either way it didn’t eleven months to have a child and he would want to be at ultra sounds and appointments. Getting pregnant now was out of the question. A bigger concern was him telling my man what was going on.

He thought he was smarter than me. ‘Do you baby, I don’t care about your husband. Fuck him!’ But I see the way he looks at me when I stop what we’re doing to answer the phone when he calls or when I shower after he touches me.

The texts and calls at the weird hours, the hickies and bite marks he tries to leave without me noticing. Men wear their emotion on their sleeve and as much as he thought he was showing me how much stronger he was than my husband he was just as weak when it came to me.

It was just sex, that straight forward, that simple. He had a big dick and he knew how to use it. I wish there was this deep conflict and these emotional ties but it was my body. In my mind and heart I knew where home was, I knew what a good man and good life I have but when my clit starts throbbing and I close my eyes and feel him inside of me all logic goes out the window.

The thrill of getting caught, the weird places, the way he’s trying to prove himself to me everytime we’re together. I explode everytime and as much as I love the man I sleep with every night I don’t explode everytime he’s inside of me.

I once read somewhere that seventy percent of women lie about orgasms. I can relate, how can you tell a man that’s giving you everything he has that he’s only making you climax once or twice out of every seven or eight times? The answer to that question is simple, you don’t tell him unless you want to lose him. You can call a man broke, you can call him a bitch, you can scratch his car and go through his phone. He’ll forgive you every time if he’s in love but question his sexual abilities and that’s all he’ll think about.

Even though it was February the weather was Spring going on Summer so I couldn’t tell if the sweat dripping down my back was from my situation or the humidity. My entire life I used sex to get my way with men; I used charm to keep them and I used their emotions against them when all else failed. And not those same emotions were turning against me.

Houston was a big city but networks were small and social media made it even smaller. Not to mention all the times I talked about my husband and his habits like I wasn’t sleeping with a man that hated him. Turning on the shower, stripping out of my bathing suit, I knew my looks wouldn’t last forever. I’d saved a lot of money since I didn’t pay any bills and my pay checks basically went untouched. But I was really starting to believe money and pleasure weren’t everything if it meant giving up on my vows.

Closing my eyes and putting my hands on the counter, “God, please don’t let either one of these men get hurt because of me.”

Opening my eyes I noticed my cell phone vibrating on the counter. It was my husband.

I didn’t answer…