Out of My League

She was out of my league.

She used me.

She deemed me inferior and treated me so.

She slept around as she needed real men.

She had four children. Only one had my DNA, but they were all mine.

Her bulls humiliated me.

My kids heard it.

I struggled. My kids were sympathetic. My kids helped.

She changed as she aged. So did I.

My league grew more fun.

Her league began to shun her. Youth rules.

My kids were active in my league.

They shunned their fathers, except mine.

They shunned my wife.

There were single mothers in my league, cast away by shallow males. Trophy wives no more.

They loved my league.

She didn't fit in my league. Why would she, she was out of my league.

The heavy makeup didn't fit.

The ostentatious jewelry didn't fit.

The name dropping didn't fit.

The humiliating jokes didn't fit.

They didn't impress me.

Good living impressed me.

My kids took after me.

They were natural, real, whole, down to earth.

They were intelligent, productive, secure.

They were strong, confident and independent.

They were loving, and big hearted.

They were beautiful.

They weren't close to their mother.

They didn't like their mother. But they didn't want her left alone.

They visited, for an hour here, and an hour there.

They spent weekends with me. We went on vacations together.

She lived in my house, but we slept separately.

I built a room of my own in the basement. It was my palace below. My kids love it there.

When they visit, it is clearly with me.

I'm not out of their league, it seems.

So I go about my life.

I eat in my cave.

I sleep in my cave.

I cook in my cave.

My cave is a good place.

I have the entire floor now.

I have a small but very well-equipped kitchen.

I put in a full bath.

Multi nozzle shower.

Hot tub.

Sauna.

I have a living room and a separate bedroom.

My bed is a king.

My cave is luxurious.

I have my own utilities, and I only pay for mine.

I have my own door, and even a separate garage.

I come and go as I please.

She doesn't realize what league I am in.

So I date.

I date...a lot.

I am well known in town at dance clubs, in jazz clubs, in the pool hall, at the bowling alley, and anywhere single females seek single males.

I get lucky.

Get lucky a lot.

I guess it is cheating, since we're legally still married.

But she separated our money long ago, when she made a lot as an administrative assistant.

I was a lowly entry level engineer.

Now I have patents.

My salary is no longer that of a lowly entry level engineer.

People pay royalties on patents that they use.

Mine are used.

Mine are used a lot.

She thinks financially I'm out of her league.

She's right. But not the way she thinks.

Financially I'm in a very high league.

She is still an administrative assistant.

But I'm sure she does very well.

She thinks she is hot.

She thinks I'm not.

I think she's gotten plump.

I haven't.

With no wife to over schedule my time, I began to work out years ago.

I worked out a lot.

I work out a lot, still.

She believes her body is out of my league.

I don't.

My abs are defined.

My pecs are hard.

I bench press my weight.

With one hand.

Well, no, I use both, but it was fun to say.

Her body is out of my league.

It's old.

It's saggy.

It's riddled with cellulite.

It's chubby.

It's definitely out of my league.

It's below me, but I'll never tell her.

She knows I'm out of her league socially.

She fucked the mayor.

She fucked the guy that owns the local oil company.

She fucked the congressman.

I fucked their wives.

I am still fucking them.

Each one tells me I am leagues above their husbands.

I believe them.

They invite me back.

Often.

I guess things changed.

I was out of her league because I was soft.

I was out of her league because I worked so hard.

I was out of her league because I didn't have money.

I was out of her league because I was shy.

Things are different now though.

She'll come home tonight to find I've moved out.

I left pictures of myself in my cave.

Kept an album of my life for her to see, if she looks.

There were pictures with my kids in loving activities with me.

I coached them.

I took them to Disney.

I made them mine.

There were pictures of me accepting awards for my patents, and pictures of me in special places.

My chalet in Vail.

My beach house in the Hamptons.

My penthouse downtown.

There were pictures of my trim, strong body.

Swimming across the sound.

Running the marathon.

Lifting in the gym.

Running Tough Mudder.

I tied it up in a black ribbon that also prominently held my wedding ring.

She would also find the resume of the three guys who rented my cave.

They play in a band, and like to party.

I put it in their lease that they could party at will.

I also ceded rights to use the pool.

Things are different now.

I live alone.

I sleep with women who think I'm the best.

I eat and drink what I please.

I work when I please.

I visit my kids when I wish.

I come home knowing my home is mine, and not being given to another man.

She's still out of my league.