A Day Like This

Before I even attempt an interesting turn of phrase to begin this story, (why do I have to call it a story? It's my whole life, or at least the only part worth telling) you have to know something of me for the beginning to make any sense.

All of the emotional layers make it so confusing now, but I say with some confidence that I did love her. And after all, why not, she was my wife. I told her so, and for a while that satisfied her, long enough to marry me anyways.

But then things changed. It's hard to say in what order these things occurred, or their possible relation to each other. First, Kayla tried to reach down to a new emotional layer in me. It was no longer enough for me to say, "I love you," I had to tell her why. She wanted to know my true feelings and passions, and she wanted them expressed in words. So I told her what I thought was the truth. I felt nothing. What I took then for nothing I now know to be the serenity of a man whose hunger, not just for sex, but for complete acceptance had been satisfied. At the time though, I only recognized the painful emotions, so I called this nothing. But under that calm was a deep love. Why else would I have been so devastated when she left me.

It's important to note her and I differ on which day she left me. The day she decided to divorce me, I wasn't devastated at all; I didn't love her anymore. To me, the day she left me was the day the sex stopped. I was a wreck.

The other thing that happened was a difference in direction. Kayla began to want a family, a house in the suburbs, a whole domestic life. But I didn't want to leave our apartment in the city and all our friends and the nightlife. I was too happy where I was.

I realize I'm being terribly one-sided in all of this. But after all, I'm only a man. Discovering my own feelings in this matter was a hard-earned step, and I couldn't begin to guess my wife's. For one reason or another, there was a stoppage of play, and I was no longer welcome in my own bedroom.

I don't know how I feel about God, but I do give him credit for this. He made man. He made woman. And he knew exactly what he had made. So when he wrote his book, he remembered to tell us all to never, ever hold out on each other when it comes to sex. It's a strategy that will never work. There are too many strikebreakers out there. It's a fact acknowledged by even the Lord.

The wisdom of the Almighty triumphed once again in our case. After a week on the couch, I poured out my troubles to my secretary, who promptly removed my pants. I'll spare you any more details other than to say it was fantastic. Again, it wasn't just the sexual release. For that I'd have had to look no farther than my own right hand. It was the sense that I was a man. I was what women wanted. My only fault was that I'd married a bitch.

No longer needing Kayla for anything, I simply ignored her right up to the day she divorced me. The affair with my secretary quickly cooled off, since I had no intention of making the same mistake twice. After that I began trolling the bars for women as starved for affection yet jaded by love as I was. My one-night stands become legendary at the office.

That was how my life was to go. Until Raquel asked me to marry her. She was a shooting star. She was a bright light in a black world. She was amazing. I'll tell you all about her.