Submitted to I, Anonymous, with the title "A Letter from Your Oldest Child":
Dear Mom,I call you mom not because you're my mother, considering I've fathered three great children from you, but because that's all you are now. You're a mom. Gone, gone are the days where we have sex with any frequency, because I look at porn. Nevermind that I have looked at porn since you've known me, and you even at one point said "I love porn" while we were in courtship. Now you hate porn, because "you can tell" when I've been looking at it when we have sex because I say or do things that are "influenced by porn". Nevermind that you tell me to cum on your face, talk about pulling my dick out of you so you can suck all the nasty pussy juice off of it, or order me to choke you with my cock, I said "you're my bitch" once, so clearly I'm a porn fiend.
You told me that either I stopped looking at porn or we'd stop having sex, and I chose porn, because I recognized this little ruse for what it is: your willful retirement from the world of adulthood. We don't have adult discussion in any capacity, if we aren't discussing children, upcoming appointments, or the requisite how-was-your-days, you treat each and every invitation to open discussion with a tenuous hostility. Why would we discuss what's happening with the economy, you know nothing about economies, have no interest, don't want to hear other people discuss it, and one of the kids made a funny face today and it needs to be described in scrutinizing detail. Fuck my 401k, you never knew how it worked to start with. Once you're done describing said wacky face hopefully one of the kids will be in pseudo-peril and you can punctuate the conversation with a concerned look and a wobbly hurry.
Your fatness is an essential core of your withdraw into mommyhood. I pay an extra $40 a month so you can go to the gym and leave the kids in their daycare. I tell you that you can leave them with me. But none of this is good for you to exercise more than once every two months. I tell you that I have absolutely no problems with the extra weight, it's sexy in its own way. So you go out and buy a two-thousand dollar home treadmill for you to work out at home and slap it on another credit card for purchases-for-which-i-consulted-no-one-and-don't-have-the-money-for. Of course, you told me you were looking at treadmills, but all the ones you asked me to look at were $800, $900. We've had it for a week and you haven't even used it once. Signs point to another good purchase!
In other "real" news, I'm getting a job as a federal agent soon, and we both feel it coming. A point at which I'm going to end up moving out to be closer to my job, which you refuse to follow me to because you don't want to leave your momma, and you don't want to stop being just a momma. You know once the job gets rolling I'm going to be gone more, have less time for stupid bullshit, and have a lot more exposure to ADULTS who have ADULT wants, ADULT needs, and ADULT expectations, and you melt away from those things not because you can't, but you don't want to. Someone may not like you, and you're going to have to cope with the real world, in a real job setting, in a real relationship, instead of being a school teacher in a retirement town that opts out of every relationship that doesn't have a predetermined power advantage.
The job is why you're feeling "depressed" lately, and I'm getting more and more chipper. Because this indefinite game of passive aggressive, sexless matriarchal bullshit is going to come crashing down. I'm going to have a job that I will follow to the ends of the Earth, and you will have little / no remaining ruses to string me along. If I meet a smart, attractive woman while I'm out-and-about with my job, I will have no compunctions with pursuing a relationship with her to a respectable stopping point, dumping your ass, and continuing where I left off. I'll see my wonderful kids whenever I can, and I'll laugh at your fat, pseudo-depressed ass the whole time. Your long vacation of being a wife and adult is ending, or our marriage is. And I'm not in the least bit upset by either prospect! Thanks for listening.
Love,
Your Husband
and contempt proceedings and judgments every time he misses a visit with the children, returns them late, or tries to act in the controlling manner typical of "federal agents".
Guys exchange sexual variety for intimacy. The guy who finds himself shut out of both intimacy and sex has every right to complain.
Someone once told me it would take a 20 people to pedal a turbine to get enough juice to run an ipod.
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