- Loving Wives
- Before We Talked
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Click hereThis is my entry for both the 750 Words and the Pink Orchid events. Thanks to Omenainen for organizing the event and for editing this!
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The rattling of the garage door opener heralds my husband's return from work. I beat him home today, but that's not surprising; I left work at lunch, because I needed to prepare.
I still need to prepare, but my preparations have shifted from the physical to the mental. I didn't want things to end up here, but he's left me no choice. So now I sit at our kitchen table, steeling myself for the conversation we're about to have.
It didn't need to be like this. It shouldn't be like this. But it is.
All afternoon, I've thought about how we got here. How we met, married, and fell deeply in love. Two kids followed. Things changed when they came along, but they had to, didn't they? I'd hoped things would change back after they went off to college, but they didn't.
God, the way we used to be. The people we used to be. We couldn't keep our hands off each other. But then we grew older, and it was hard to find quiet times to be together, and... yada yada yada. Same old story, told a hundred times over, in a hundred different ways.
The kids are out of the house now. They have been for three years. God knows I've tried to get us back. I dressed sexier for him. Got a gym membership and got my body back; he was, of course, too busy to accompany me. Tried to get him to go on date nights and to spice things up in the bedroom afterwards.
Nada.
Same old perfunctory foreplay, a few licks here and there, a couple minutes of pumping, and we were done. He was done, anyways.
It's not just the sex, either. It's intimacy, love, connection, everything.
He promised me he'd cut back on hours once the kids were in college, but that was a lie. I pleaded with him to go to counseling with me. I begged him to take the vacation he'd promised, the one where we planned to reconnect, but it was always "well, things are so busy this time of year..."
All year. Every year.
It's all bullshit. I know it is. He knows it is.
He built his company. It's seen us through many years of prosperity, and I'm profoundly grateful for it and him giving our family a good standard of living. I am. It's still just a business, though. He could sell it today, and we'd be able to live the rest of our lives off the proceeds. He could raise up that protégé he's been training for over a decade, cut him in a percentage, and let it go. That was the plan. At least, he promised that was the plan.
But no. Somewhere in there--I don't know exactly when--it became his lover. He promised he'd never cheat on me, but what do you call it when a man obsesses over something to the point where he'd rather make it happy than his wife? What do you call it when his wife's asking turns to nagging turns to pleading for more than a few scraps of his time?
I'm done asking. I'm done nagging. I'm done pleading. He's going to listen this time, and what happens after that is up to him.
So. Here I sit in my little black dress and my high heels. Here I sit to give him one last chance at me. Here I sit, ready to force his decision: me or his brick-and-mortar mistress.
Him, or the man from the gym who looks at me and sees me.
I want to choose my husband. I want him to choose me. But if he won't? I'll choose something else. I'll choose a new life. I deserve a life.
He enters the kitchen and looks me up and down. As his expression shifts over long moments, I think, 'If this is the end, how will he tell our story? Will he be fair to me? Will he admit his role in our demise? Or will he be the blameless hero, the victim of a faithless trollop and a scheming predator?'
He sneers with annoyance. I hide my sadness. I know how our story ends now, and it's not the way either of us wanted when we were those young kids, so deeply in love.
Masking my hurt, hiding the pain of rejection and broken promises, I speak loudly and clearly as I begin our end.
"Honey, we need to talk."
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"Where's the ending?!" I hear some of you cry. Why, it's all over Loving Wives; there are tons of "Honey, We Need To Talk" stories out there, so I figured it would be nice to let the wife have her say for once without filtering it through the aggrieved husband.
Speaking of women who don't get their due, did you know that the first story with this trope published on Literotica (at least as far as I've been able to find) was written by nici way back in 2007? Something We Have to Talk About has about 90% of the DNA of the trope all in one package, and it caused quite a stir back then. I kind of think of it as the "February Sucks" before "February Sucks," and it'd be nice if nici got the same kind of recognition for her contribution to the site. I'll be talking more about both stories and more in an upcoming essay, along with plagiarism, community, and a bunch of other stuff.
One more shout-out, while I'm at it. KitDeLuca164 wrote one of my favorite 750 word stories for the event last year in Prologue to a Problem, then followed it up with a continuation later in the year. She reliably tells LW stories from the wife's point of view, and often with endings that aren't necessarily happy and tied up in a bow; those choices often infuriate some readers, but I find her writing to be a breath of fresh air. Maybe you'll agree.
I took a little time off for the holidays, but my batteries are recharged, and I'm raring to go! Along with the aforementioned essay, I've got another one cooking on AI art and writing, along with stories in multiple categories partway finished. Watch this (and adjacent) spaces!
Also, in case you don't follow me and haven't seen my profile, I wanted to say I'm profoundly grateful for all the votes for Most Influential. I couldn't have won without y'all; hell, I wouldn't even have written nearly as much without your encouragement. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart.
- COMMENTS
First, let's talk about your story. It had a fairly well thought out back ground (not complete but) that was well expressed. I don't know enough to agree with her reasoning...but, that is not the point of the story. I enjoyed it enough to be a 5, that was until I read and followed your link to 'Nick's story that was supposed to be as ground breaking as February Sucks.
Well, I was very disappointed. The only reason it got the amount of response it did was because she called out male writers saying they put women in a bad light. And, then her story painted an even worse picture than the male writers had done. She dropped us into a story that the reader was suppose to know her intent, and then she continued to write herself even into a deeper hole with the reluctant sequels.
A HINT FOR ALL WRITERS... details matter.
Firstly I am a man/husband and VERY much a family man..having made that clear,I agree with your perspective from a long standing faithful wifes viewpoint..If a husband puts his job that far ahead of his family,he does not deserve a family.A job is a just the means to an end,not a life.I myself cannot imagine missing time with my wife and kids by choice,as the kids grew up adult hood and time spent with their off spring because of my job.Yes I did for 3 years because of the economy in the early 80s when the oil industry tanked and to survive I worked on sites away from home from weeks to months at a time..Those years I missed from my family growing up can never be recovered...JZK
I loved this. I admit I'd love for you to flesh it out more because, you know... Lazy mind of the reader 😃
I will say that the idea of spending most of your time at work IS wrong when not necessary. I know too many people who would rather work late and go out for drinks after vs going home to their family. There's no reason MOST people in the West can't make their family comfortable without working constantly. I learned that the hard way, but at least early enough to fix it....
Just put in the time at home. Take vacation. BE with your family when your are home instead of working on your phone or laptop constantly. Dinner without TV, so you can talk to the family. I started cooking home early to see my son, make dinner, and spend time with my wife. Then I'd go back to work on the laptop... I'm luck I can do this, but we can all find a way to give the most important thing to or family ... Our time...
And... Not just a male problem anymore. Most household are dual income now, and getting closer to parity in pay, albeit slowly...
It's the paradox of female behavior - they want all the shiny stuff, but want a man who pulls it out of his arse with a magic teacup. The man wants to make his wife happy, wants to feel proud of himself in one of the few ways a man has left to feel proud of himself, so he devotes himself to his work. You can generally say it's a blameless situation, except really the blame is all around as the time to have the "We need to talk" conversation is generally miles before things get to the point of things such as infidelity (and no, you can't be unfaithful to a job, that's rubbish - until money is not required to live and until women stop craving social status, a job will always be a measure of a mans worth in a relationship). Generally speaking, men come out worse in these relationships because their sense of identity comes deeply under attack. Imagine living in a place where everyone tells you every day you are doing the right thing and that you ought to be proud of yourself and then one day, finding out that it's all been ripped away from you by the person you were doing it for and you're left feeling nothing but remorse for wasting time (time, after all, is money and money is time) and shame for being a gullible fool. Personally, I feel like Ronald Reagan signing the first "no fault divorce" laws in the country was the starting point of the downfall of marriage as society institution, which is a shame, because it's an extremely useful one. I also think it's no mistake that at least in the western world, the only non-first generation immigrant demographic that has sustained relatively high marriage rates are wealthy white people. Having generational wealth seems to lead to reasonably happy marriage expectations. Who figured?