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  1. Been a while since I put word to page here on the blog. No excuses... just seems like the more fun you're having somewhere else the more you avoid going back to where you were happy. Things shift to lighter shade of grey the longer you wait to "git 'er done".
    Was a time I looked forward to poppin' in to the bar to have a word with Lloyd, a good cup of coffee, and maybe a little excitement going on at (or under or on) the tables, where friends might pull some silly stunt or say something foolish. Do I recall some hottie or other dancing on the table in front of all the guys sitting around... drooling guys, happy the lady neglected the panties. Shameless twits wanking under the table, hopin' for some help from an innocent young nubile lass... and sometimes getting it. Who remembers those Friday nights when shame and modesty could be cast aside in favor of an anonymous night of debauchery for the sake of a good time among friends. For good or ill, modesty prevails for the most part... except for the butt-hole who can't remember where he left his pants... goodonya boy... show 'em you're still alive. Mean-time, I put my teeth in and drift over to the bar, pick up the paper and a hot cuppa, and set for a bit with my memories.
  2. Memories... it's all history... there are things in life that come back over and over like the change of the day, twelve chimes on the clock... which reminds me, I need to wind the old man. Tucked away in most of us are memories, good or bad, regretful or worth sharing... nice if some would just stay away... wetting the bed 'til you were six years old... catching a dose of the clap... catching another dose... not being quick enough to catch that line drive getting bigger and bigger as it zooms in on my nose... stuff like that. Seems the ones you'd rather forget are the most vivid... used to be able to drink them away... and I've done some of that in my more active days... guess that's why the good times are harder to remember... lots of them were made standing around shootin' the shit with my Buds... lots of 'em... the Indian... full blooded, big gutted strong guy, not the most sophisticated bloke around... but I liked him... get Christmas cards from him still... don't reminisce a lot... but still remember the good times... couple of the guys called him Chief... not very immaginative I know... he's the only man who ever said "I love you man" so's I could hear him... maybe more than once... we did throw some good drunks together... like the time there's just the two of us, swillin' beer to kill time... as us military folks at that time were like to do... musta been close to last call, suckin' on that brew and listenin' to the band... he's not sayin' anything for a quite awhile so I notice his head is on the table, beer still in his hand... can't explain it, why bother, I took hold of his hair, pulled his head up and hollered above the noise of the band, "If you're gonna drink with me you sonofabitch you're gonna stay awake!"... of course he was confused... I don't know if it was the same night or not, there were a lot of 'em... somehow we got from that table when they chased us out of there... somehow found his car... old Cortina pockmarked with rust... scabies like... debated who was gonna drive... he had the keys... speed limit on base was 30, he was like 20 under that... still couldn't keep it out of the weeds... road to the gate was laid out on a WWII taxiway... plenty wide enough to sleep awhile if you're going straight... we weren't... goin' straight that is... at least once, maybe more, I had to take hold of the wheel to get us back on the path... we slow to a stop, the Chief gets out, comes to my side and says "you drive, I'm drunk"... what could I do, so I went around and got in... next day was a revelation, that poor Cortina's parking brake was on full, but it still rolled... how we ever got out that gate past the guard and on the English road I don't remember... maybe he was asleep, the guard that is... I do remember somewhere along the way stopping and making Chief drive... he accepted that I was too drunk... keeping on the proper English side of the road over there was hard enough when alert and sober... too many years on the other side in the USA. I have flashbacks to this day of being on the wrong side... four lights staring at us... no two... no four maybe more... can't say more what happened... some things get forgot in the fog... but another flashback further on assures me we lived... I had jockeyed that little station wagon somehow into a dock area of a warehouse, getting chased off by the guard... somewhere I got the tiller... Chief was kind... "Get your ass out of there and let me drive!"... Right!... getting home must have been one of the good times... no memory of that... the good times... We joined a local social club... just a building to go play darts and drink and bullshit... rub elbows with the locals... Welshman stood us up for membership... a place to get away from the bluidy wimmen and brats for awhile and dump some testosterone... a memory building thought came upon me as it were, standing at the bar drinking pints, past too drunk to play darts... standing in the middle of the hubbub ticking off the diversity of our little group... the Welshman, of course, couldn't understand half what he was sayin' but blathering on just as well as you please... the Chief, full blooded Cherokee or Comanche or whatever, who remembers... another American colonist this one from New Jersey... always had some kind of scam or scheme going on, but that's another piece in the bucket of musings... guy had great gastronomic sense... Blutwurst on a caraway seeded bun with camembert melted over, and a paper cup of champagne... his choice of eats would always elicit "It don't get any better than this!" from our crowd... the Irish bartender from the base NCO club, brogue so thick you could cut it with a celt... a charming up for anything Scot who often showed up in our midst in a kilt... our token black Yank used to say he preferred white women over black because white women had smaller pussies, and his dick was the same size as ours... To hear this bunch standing around together passin' gas was a hoot. Be great if I had some good memories to relate, this bloggin' gives me something to do with my spare time now that my brother oldkid has gone back to Washington. Had to get back before his government provided ticket expired.
    Ain't it been fun. 7738-a3b3b7e7e02cb3207c58b6d0d303a9d2.gif
  3. I want to leave a message behind before I bite the big one, which I hope won't be too long now, I've suffered enough. Yes, I'm crying in my beer.
    This is aimed at a narrow slice of married men, some of whom are on this forum. I'm talking about the unfortunate creature who over the last couple of years, has told this story of their pitiful lives in a sexless marriage. If you're in the last third of your life, it's probably too late. It's much too late for me, as I've reached the stage that assures me I'm on the downhill run. If this scenario doesn't fit you, don't waste your time reading it, you're not the guy I'd like to try to save. Several of you men have said on this forum that you're living in a sexless marriage, don't want to leave the family you started, love your kids and don't want to hurt them by divorcing their mother. You may benefit from this, but then, you can chose to ignore it and go on for the rest of your life wishing you had taken my advice. After 50 years being married to the same woman, loving her through most of those years, I find myself getting up each and every day wishing I could go back and do it all over. Every day I think about what I did wrong. I now realize I have nothing to look forward to. I have sufficient reason, in my own mind, why I wouldn't end it with a .38 Revolver, which I keep for home protection. My life insurance wouldn't pay off, and both of my pensions would stop. I did my two column thing, putting all the plusses in my life on the left side and all the negatives on the right. I have a good recliner, I have enough income to keep the two of us comfortable, warm, well fed, and a new roof over my head. I have a reliable car that gets me any where I want to go. Now the negatives: I had a heart attack back in 1992 followed by a small stroke. My breathing is impaired so any exertion leaves me gasping for breath. I'm type II diabetic, on insulin. My kidneys are failing. I can't stand to watch television so it stays on all day just for noise. I have a wife who is and has always been intellectually backward. She has no curiosity for anything new. I have a 47 year old son who is living in our house, so I never have any privacy, all my dreams of a comfortable retirement thrown to the wayside by my wife's decision to let him live with us, as his psychologist says he can't live alone (panic attacks). No matter how many times we have discussed my need to have a sex life, she will not participate, in any way. The only relief I have is masturbation. I read a lot, but it's only so I don't have to think about what I should have done years ago, had I forseen what is happening now.
    This is where the advice comes in: Don't let it go this way. Yes, a divorce is hard on everybody. Being miserable for the next 20... 30...40 years is much worse, believe me. You can weather a couple of years of difficult times, but look around you and see the 60% of marriages that split up. Most of them live comfortable lives. You will even get used to living with less income, but you'll be able to sleep every night. You have no way to see how difficult it will be if you continue in a sexless marriage. If you're inclined to talk about it, PM me. No man should have to suffer for the rest of his life knowing no relief is in sight.