Laina left me after finding tetra-bytes of pornography on my private computer. Thousands upon thousands of clips and full length videos of sperm-laden women doing things that made me wake up in the middle of the night in a sticky sweat. I thought I was smart. I had the files tucked away neatly in a sub-folder labeled ‘Old Tax Forms,’ but I wasn’t smart enough to put a password on the computer. I tried to reason with her but she screamed that she’d had enough and flew out the door. That was seven months a go and I still find myself waiting to hear her car pull into the drive.
I never deserved her. She is a knock-out. Tall, strawberry blonde hair, green eyes, and curves exactly where they should be. Her breasts point gracefully to the ceiling and the place where her ass meets her legs looks like a perfect upside down heart. Next to her I look like a troll. I stand at 5’6″ and as my mom always said, I’m as wide as I am tall. My hair is thinning, I have a eczema, and I snore when I sleep on my back. None of that mattered to Laina, however. She once said she loved be because I was genuine, kind, and I made her laugh. I was shocked when she said yes to our first date and stunned when she agreed to marry me. On our wedding night, my best man said during his speech, “I see you let her out of the basement tonight. You know, the one where you keep her chained.” Everyone laughed, but me. Everyone knew she was out of my league, including me.
I don’t know if it was the porn that bothered her so much as it was the fact that we didn’t have much of a sex life. When we started dating, I was too preoccupied with her to be bothered with porn. All of my energy and lust was directed towards her. However, once we settled into married life I started watching porn again. I’d spend hours holed up in my office with the door shut downloading everything I came across, cranking it until I was sore. Laina would spend money on expensive lingerie and try to seduce me, but I couldn’t get it up for her.The rare occasions that we did have sex, I’d lose it five minutes into the process. She’d end up crying and go to bed frustrated. I’d wait until she was sound asleep to sneak into the office to finish things up.
I’ve went over it all in my head hundreds of times before and after the split. Laina was more than enough of a woman for me, yet I needed something else. Years of being alone had desensitized me. The break from porn had helped but when I began to use it again, Laina’s touch did nothing for me. As our distance grew, I started drinking more and my once charming sense of humor turned on me. I’d get hammered at social functions and say inappropriate things to other men’s wives. The worst is when we’d be out in public and a hot young girl with big tits would pass by and I’d get a hard-on. I couldn’t help myself. Every woman I saw, I undressed and fucked with my eyes, my dick responding accordingly.
Yesterday morning I was served with divorce papers. I decided I’m not going down without a fight, not that Laina and I had anything to actually fight over. We didn’t have children so there was no custody to arrange. I owned the townhouse we lived in upstate and she moved into a flashy new apartment in Lower Manhattan. Both of us have our own money and we even signed a prenuptial before marriage. The only thing I want from Laina is forgiveness and hopefully, a mercy lay.
Today is the day. I got up early, ate a balanced breakfast, and cleaned the house to clear my head. When I made it to the door to the office, I froze.Two months a go I started going to a sex addicts meeting at the hospital a quarter mile from my favorite pizza place and hadn’t stepped foot in the office since. I bought a new laptop shortly after attending the meetings and kept it porn free. The second week in, I had an epiphany. Like a person does after receiving a DUI, I asked the group leader to sign and date a sheet of paper documenting my attendance. When I first asked Raul, he gave me a queer look and tilted his head.
“You know this group is anonymous and I don’t want my name out there. I know you don’t have a judge to be taking this to. So, what is it for,” he inquired with his quick, high-pitched Puerto Rican accent. I told him it was to get my ex back. He rolled his eyes and with one hand on his hip, he signed the paper.
I walked away from the office and returned to the sheet of paper hanging on the fridge. I traced my finger down the written dates. Five weeks in, I stopped masturbating to porn. Thanks to Raul, there was a shiny gold star next to each porn-free week. I was so excited to tell Laina.
It was now 2 pm I still wasn’t dressed. Instead, I was standing in front of the mirror wearing underwear, trying to suck in my gut while appearing casual. My face was red and my ears were hot. I looked at the room behind me, clean clothes strewn everywhere. I had tried on a half-dozen suit pants that tugged at my balls every time I breathed.The button-up shirts weren’t any better. Each button screams as I painstakingly try to make it past my belly. I huffed as I settled on a pair of grey slacks and white collared shirt that made me look like an overstuffed feather pillow.
When the elevator door opened I stepped inside and pushed the button for the 20th floor. As it ascended, I sucked in my gut but forgot to breathe. Sweat beaded on forehead and I could faintly smell my armpits. I’d forgotten to put on deodorant. I fanned my underarms using the the file that contained the speech I prepared for Laina, the divorce form, and the dated paper from the sex addicts meetings. I began flapping my arms up and down at my sides like a bird trying to speed up the drying process. The elevator door snapped open at the 18th floor. All the air left my lungs and my belly went flaccid as Laina and a muscular black man stood in front of me, waiting to enter. Unfettered, the man with Laina entered confidently and held the elevator door open for her. Laina stood there stunned, staring into my eyes.
“What are you doing here,” she demanded.
I didn’t know what to say. This isn’t how I planned to approach Laina – not in the elevator and definitely not in the company of another man. I uttered something that barely resembled English and accidently dropped the file, covering the floor with paperwork. The sweat beads turned into sweat trails and my underarms were soaked, the stench undeniable. I scrambled to pick up the papers as Laina timidly stepped into the elevator and the man bent over to assist me. Recognizing the divorce papers, Laina kneeled down and picked them up.
“Is this what you’re here for,” she asked sharply.
I looked up at her still unable to talk. I looked over at the man as he said to Laina, “Do you know this guy?”
She sighed. “It’s my ex-husband. Well, soon to be.”
The man stifled a laugh as he said, “Oh, I see.”
As he spoke the muscles in his body flexed. “How the hell does he flex while speaking,” I thought to myself. He handed me the paperwork, Laina handed me back the divorce forms, and I attempted to smooth out my sweat drenched shirt. The man, now half-smiling, stood close to Laina with his arm behind her back.
“We’re not doing this here. Not now. I don’t know why you would even show up unannounced,” Laina held her palm to her forehead in an attempt to stave off a headache.
“It’s all good, Laina. Don’t sweat it,” he consoled her, now smiling widely as if amused by the entire display.
With the papers clenched tightly to my chest, I sized him up. He was probably in his mid-twenties, neatly shaven, and his white polo shirt effortlessly embraced his well sculpted body. His jeans were dark denim and without meaning to, I noted the outline of his package. My mind immediately envisioned him grabbing her by the waist, turning her towards the elevator wall, lifting the hem of her floral sundress, and pulling her panties to the side, taking her from behind.
“Dude, do you have a boner?”
I snapped back to reality and looked down at my pants. Yes, I had a raging hard-on.
“You’re disgusting,” Laina said.
I hadn’t noticed the elevator descending and as they stepped off,the paperwork fell back to the floor, and I stood there drenched in my own stench, unable to speak, and with a sad boner. I bent over to pick up the divorce form, reached for the pen clipped to the file folder, and signed the divorces papers.