I posted this excerpt @ IRM just recently and wanted to post it on my own blog. It's rough and needs editing, but I do hope you enjoy. After the summer, once the other series are complete/released, this novel will be the next project.
'The Ideal Side of Love'
Rating: m/m, erotic, romance, drama.
“We’ve been going in circles for months.”
I listened to Markus go on and on, about how he'd contributed, done his part in the relationship, but where was my input, and suffice to say, after he dumped the blame on me, the words just became a mess of unintelligible gibberish. The threats held no meaning. All shock value had been permanently lost. Quite simply, our marriage ceased to exist.
“I love you Stephen–I really do, but I can’t live like this any more. You’re hardly ever here and when you are, you don’t bother with me anyway. I’m just a convenience when you need your cock stroked.”
It’s funny but I didn’t react–at least not the way I’d expected myself too. Under normal circumstances I would’ve begged him to stay, smothered him with affection and praise, making myself out to be the asshole, but not this time. This time I just stood there in a state of relative calm and watched as he ran the breadth of emotions, crying, swearing and all the while he was furiously packing. Now when I think back, it was in truth, my fault. I’d hooked up with a flamboyant gay man, one of those overly sensitive types, the ones that can’t control themselves. Unfortunately, owing to my poor choice, the marriage was doomed to fail from the start. It was a simple fact of a personality clash.
“Look at you!” He threw his hands up. “My God even now you aren’t listening! I’m out of here, Stephen!” He grabbed his jacket and moved towards the door, snapping at me like a Chihuahua, “Aren’t you going to stop me? I can’t believe you’re not going to stop me!”
He impatiently tapped a foot with a hand firmly placed on either hip–no doubt waiting for my sincerest apology. I was about to mention he’d forgotten to return the house key, but shrugged instead. “Obviously your mind is made up.”
“You really are a selfish bastard!”
The front door bounced off the jam so hard a picture was knocked to the floor, and there he went, dragging a suitcase and shoulder bag behind. Every step of the way, he cursed and wailed, to some unseen force in the heavens. I watched as he almost tripped, flung the car door open, heatedly shoved the suitcase over the driver side headrest, where it fell into the back seat. The shoulder bag landed on the passenger seat and he hopped inside. I got a smoking hot deal on the Honda with the candy-apple red finish and it was a really nice set of wheels. Legally it wasn’t his to take, but whatever–it was cheaper than sitting in divorce court. Once he backed out of the driveway, I closed the door. I picked the photo up, made sure to hang it straight then wandered back to the living room, where I had been enjoying a latte and cinnamon bun to the images of the afternoon news.
And so, that was husband number one.
I’ve been married oh six or seven times–give or take a few. Not to say that I’m a proud gay man because I’m not, but my marriages were ending quicker than Elizabeth Taylors and my ex-husband had eclipsed hers. I’m pretty sure the judge had a special chair set aside for me in divorce court and I know for a fact my lawyer had me on speed dial. I was in love with the idea of love and a monogamous relationship, which according to my best friend, Abigail, is a huge fallacy in itself. I’d meet a guy, we’d feel a mutual attraction and then we’d end up in the sack. Within months, sometimes less, I was down on one knee pledging my heart forever. The problem was I always jumped in too quick. I never made an effort to really acquaint myself with the men I was screwing. I just figured if I made the relationship legal the pieces would automatically fall in place, but as anyone knows, life isn’t so neat and tidy.
After Markus, it was Edward and after Edward came Joel then Nigel and Roberto. Markus felt neglected–okay I wasn’t attentive enough, which I’ve already admitted fault. Edward said the sex was insufficient. I barely survived with my dick in tact! If he wasn’t gnawing it off I had to bend him over. Even the best sex in the world, when performed four times a day seven days a week is draining. He was a satyriasis, it was too much. The split was a joint agreement.
Eight months into my next marriage and Joel decided I wasn’t his type–I wish he’d told me sooner it would’ve saved us both some money. Then there was Nigel, who wanted to introduce another man to our bed. Threesomes don’t sit well with me. They’re great when you’re young, horny and unattached, but not beneficial to a healthy marriage. That sounded eerily like my mother. Roberto was an absolute slob and spent my money like it grew on trees. I had no choice and let him go.
Deep breath. Then there was this short-lived intermission with a fellow I’ll refer to as James–unfortunately I can’t recall his name, but I do know the sex was fantastic and lasted just over a week. It was the longest one-night-stand in history. Of course after this blip I moved on to the real husband numbered six, William. For all intents and purposes, William was the one to endure and after two years I really thought we had a fighting chance. But when I caught the UPS delivery driver screwing him in our bed I saw nothing but red. It seems to hurt the worst when you catch your lover in the arms of another. Why wasn’t I enough? I lost control and hollered like a madman. “I gave you everything and this is what I get!!!” I booted his bare ass into the cold and threw his clothes into the street. The UPS guy didn't risk confronting me and sprinted for the truck naked. William stood at the end of the driveway with the black satin top sheet bunched at his crotch to protect his privates. The neighbours got an eye full and I became the hottest topic of local gossip. The hushed whispers in the local grocery store went on for months.
That divorce was the messy one. Even though my lawyer had provided evidence of infidelity, we’d still managed two years together residing under the same roof, which inferred, I couldn’t leave him destitute. So to salvage my home and business but still pay William out in full, I was forced to borrow from the bank, using my home as collateral. A hundred thousand dollar loan–thank God the house was mortgage free. The pay-out was the only thing he’d agree to–oh and I lost my car, another Honda, in this instance a Civic. I was beginning to think that Honda’s were bad luck. Right before Christmas William signed all rights away to my home, business and pension. After that my lawyer stated–‘One more shitty marriage like this, Stephen, and you’ll be signing up for a legal aid.’
Okay, that was the point when I really started to reevaluate my life. The loss of the car and money was a definite setback, but so was the loss of my public dignity and lover. My hopes of ever finding a suitable partner seemed remote. Then there were the family and friends to contend with. Both were gradually distancing themselves from the drama. Who could blame them. My life was a roller coaster of emotional and financial distress. How many times had Abby cried for me... How many times had my father and mother become attached, accepting all these men into the family and their lives, only to find disappointment when I announced yet another painful break-up was on the horizon. And what about me... How many times can one man be slapped in the face?
Then the summer of nineteen ninety-two arrived. It was a time in my life I remember well. My divorce had just finalized. The cafés were very busy–economically sound. It was the seventeenth of July, a muggy Friday night. I had worked later than usual, but considering the bank loan, there wasn’t any other alternative.
‘Taking erotic to a sinful new level…’
All rights reserved. This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination, or have been used fictionally. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, locales, or events is entirely coincidental. No portion of this work may be transmitted or reproduced in any form, or by any means, without permission in writing from the author.