Abuse Addict

Prologue

"My brother, ... he sat me right down and he talked to me.

He told me, ... That I ought not to let you just walk on me.

And I'm sure he meant well, ... but when our talk was through,

I said, ... 'Brother, ...

if you only knew, you'd wish that you were in my shoes.'

Yeah, I wanna spread the news ... That if it feels this good gettin' used,

Oh, you just keep on usin' me ... Until you use me up."

Lyrics from the song "Use Me" by Bill Withers, 1972.

Intro

Sitting alone at the bar, I was once again waiting for my wife, Linda.

When leaving work at five o'clock, as usual, I first check on the youngest of our kids after school. Our youngest was now a high school senior, and she didn't take much supervision. But it was a habit I developed over the years to ensure our "latchkey kids" were behaving and they would know they had involved parents. I plan! And I always knew where they were and what they were doing after school. After checking on the kids, I would call my wife to plan our evening, sometimes meeting for drinks or dinner at a restaurant if the kids were all busy.

When I call my wife to meet for drinks, we always agree on a place, and when she can get there. But after sitting in this bar, drinking, and waiting, she's now over an hour late.

So, I sent her the text, 'Where are you?'

'Stopped to talk on the way out. Leaving now. ETA 45 minutes.'

This wasn't the first time she stood me up, so it didn't come as a surprise.

She either stops to talk with friends and loses track of time or she gets focused on her work and forgets ... or at least that's what she says. But I was on my third drink and couldn't handle any more this evening.

'Heading home now. See you there.'

Our daughter would come home from her high school play rehearsal in another hour. So, I finished my third drink and left for home to fix dinner.

Early Life

Linda and I were both Army Staff Sergeants in our mid-twenties when we first met in the Basic NCO course. I was an infantryman, and she worked as a clerk in the Corps headquarters. We dated for one year, then she was reassigned to another post a thousand miles away. We stayed in touch with letters and phone calls (paying long distance charges at that time,) with me always the one to call her. Then we planned our leave for two-week long vacations together twice over the next year.

I finally asked her to marry me, so we could arrange our transfers as a married couple to get back together on the same Army base six months later.

During those two years of dating and our long-distance relationship, I missed (or ignored) the early warning signs of the narcissist: always late, never concerned when keeping others waiting, only focused on what she wants, and was always into her make-up, hair, nails, and clothes.

After we married, I found that she would write checks near payday without checking the bank balance. The second time she almost bounced a check, I started keeping a slush fund of extra money in the checking account without telling her, since a bounced check could have ended a military career. And when we were finally living together, I realized she had a shopping fetish, always coming into the house with a bag of something from a store, many times with things we didn't even need.

But Linda soon got pregnant, and we were building a family together. After the second one was born, she ended her Army service to become a stay-at-home mom, while I focused on my military career by volunteering for Special Forces, which I successfully completed.

As an SF weapons sergeant, I even managed to get a slot to attend sniper training. The promotions in Special Forces came faster than in the infantry, so the deployments were worth the family separations, due to the increased pay and the occasional special assignments with per diem. And that sniper school taught me a lot about patience. Waiting for seemingly endless hours in a hide for the right target and shot, and often not even getting the chance to take the shot. Patience and an acceptance of harsh conditions seemed to come naturally to me.

***

We did have good times when the kids were young and during Christmas and birthdays. But Linda's idea of buying the kids presents always went toward buying them clothes (her narcissism wanting them to look their best beside her), whereas I enjoyed finding the best toys they'd enjoy.

After our third child was born, I thought we debated the issue of having more kids, thinking I convinced her we couldn't afford any more on just my Army pay. But although she finally agreed to sign the paper the military doctors required for my vasectomy; in hindsight it was the beginning of the end. Since I was no longer able to give her another child, my sex life dried up. It was as if Linda just needed me to pay the bills and give her another kid. So, now I was just paying the bills.

As a stay-at-home mom without a baby to hold, Linda seemed to become obsessed with playing video games. There were times I'd come home from work at dinner time to find the toddlers unsupervised and running amok, with Linda on the computer saying "I'm almost done here. Give me ten more minutes, and I'll start dinner."

One time, when I returned from a six-month deployment, I called Linda telling her when we'd be released to go home after all of the weapons were cleaned and secured in about two hours. While other married NCOs and officers had wives already waiting for them, I knew I had to call Linda with an approximate time I'd be ready to leave, and she promised to come with the kids to pick me up. Later that evening, all the other guys in my detachment and company had already been picked up by their wives, or the single ones were heading out for dates, while I sat along the curb near the company area waiting over an hour alone for my wife to show up. And I could have walked home in thirty minutes!

I understood the tensions between military spouses when one returns from deployments. The stay-at-home spouse often feels like it's an intrusion in their single-parent household routines. But I found that while I was deployed, the kids report cards showed they were often tardy arriving at school. And when I was home, Linda would sleep in, forcing me to get the kids off to school on time.

I finally retired from the Army as a Special Forces Team Sergeant after twenty-two years of service and started looking for a civilian job. The first job I got out of service was one I took out of desperation to keep the paychecks coming in to support the family. It was one of those high-risk, dirty jobs the government employees can't be caught doing, and they can't send uniformed soldiers to do. But my particular skill set was well suited for it. The pay was very good, so when I returned, luckily unharmed, I spent the rest of that year focused on finishing my college degree as a full-time student and looking for a safer way to earn a living.

With the kids older and in junior high and high school, Linda decided to finish a degree in computer programming, and I even helped her get her first job by revising her resume and advising her on an initial salary demand. But within the first year of her full-time employment as a computer programmer, she became even more distant. Now that Linda was employed, the distance she displayed between us was different. She'd sleep in and deliberately go in late to her "nine-to-five job", so she'd come home late. This meant I also had to check on the kids after school, ensuring they did their homework, and preparing their dinner.

I can't say our married life was all bad. There were plenty of good times, too ... when Linda was available. But most of my life after the Army revolved around a full-time job, then supervising the kids, and taking care of the house and bills. I came from a family with parents who didn't believe in divorce. So, even with the trying times my wife made me endure, to me, that was just life. And the type of personalities the Army really wants to find are those of us who DON'T react emotionally. We endure, with the attitude "embrace the suck, the rain shall pass."

***

Now, with the two older boys out on their own and our youngest daughter at seventeen years old and no longer occupying my time, the good times were becoming rare. I found that going straight home after work to an empty house was rather lonely.

Waiting, for What?

As I finished my drink to leave the bar, after my wife stood me up, I thought back to what was going wrong.

When I was in the Army, she was saddled with the young kids at home, so I knew she wasn't screwing around on me when I was deployed. But after she started working full-time, she had more opportunities. There was one time when I called her cellphone wondering why she was late, and there was a male voice in the background asking her to hurry up. And there was the other time I decided to surprise her by showing up at her office to take my wife out to lunch, only to spot her leaving with another guy. That might have been an innocent lunch with a co-worker (I didn't bother to stop them to ask.) But "embrace the suck, the rain shall pass." So, this time with the text messages, ... who knows? She may or may not be cheating. But at this point in our marriage after years of neglect, who really cares?

I've read plenty of stories online about cheating or abusive wives, with their husbands going berserk. I'm sure there are plenty of despondent husbands out there whose wives cheated, and they would look forward to a retired Special Ops sniper going "scorched Earth" to burn his bitch (and her lover?), getting away with it due to my special training. But being a sniper is not about any emotional attachment to your target or trying to inflict pain. It's a job, ... plan the tasks, set up your work space (the hide), wait for the parts to come in (the target), set the machine in place (rifle and scope), and pressing the "on" button (trigger). Then go home to open a beer and relax.

So, when it comes to the bitch, let's get real! The military tries to NOT promote fools, and as a team sergeant, I plan. I don't take unnecessary risks. I calmly and calculatingly think through the options and scenarios, and I weigh the risks versus the benefits.

If I go scorched Earth on my wife, I risk my kids and future, and for what? The "pleasure" of seeing the bitch in some sort of pain? That's not a tangible gain or benefit. And I won't risk my relationship with my kids for that.

No. Uncle Sam doesn't deliberately promote stupid (those must be voted in.) So, the best option is to skip this target, wait for the rain to pass, and move along to the next objective.

***

I left that bar before seven o'clock. My daughter and I finished dinner by eight, and I even cleaned up the kitchen. I was sitting in the living room with my tablet computer reading an interesting article when Linda came in after nine o'clock, over three hours late from the time she was supposed to meet me for drinks.

Looking up from my computer, I saw her drop two bags on the kitchen table with her latest find from a shopping trip. These two were lost there among the other five I'd left for her to put away. As she passed through the living room toward the stairs, I said "There's leftovers in the refrigerator."

She casually said "I grabbed something to eat before coming home. I'm heading upstairs." And with that, she disappeared upstairs to her home office, secluding herself from any need to interact with me.

At eleven o'clock, I put my tablet computer down and went upstairs, first stopping in to check on Linda in her office. She was playing Solitaire on her computer.

"I'm heading to bed," I said. "Are you coming?"

"I just need to clear my mind for a few minutes," she replied. "I'll be right in."

It was dark at three o'clock when I quietly woke without moving (it's something you learn to do when lying in a sniper hide for twenty-four hours), feeling the bed stirring a little as she carefully crept into her side, trying not to wake me.

This was the latest of many similar nights over the last several years. I knew if I rolled over and pressed her to have sex, she'd grudgingly agree. But it would be like fucking a lifeless doll, with her just lying there showing zero emotion. So, why bother.

Affair

The interesting article I read yesterday described a website for cheating spouses. So, with nothing else to occupy my evenings, I checked it out. I decided that if my wife couldn't be bothered to come home on time or spend any time with me, then 'why not?' Afterall, it's not as if we were even acting like a married couple anymore.

My profile on the cheater's website soon received a few interesting hits from several different women.

One woman said she lived about twenty miles away and was trying to find a guy for flings on Saturday evenings. Seeing how my wife and I rarely ever went out together, and Linda wouldn't miss me, I tried contacting this woman. She was surprised that a married guy could get away on Saturdays, and she made a few excuses for not agreeing to a date. So, I realized she was probably a paid operative on that site, exchanging e-mails to keep men paying for their subscriptions. And the same thing happened with two others; encouraging e-mails with promises of getting together "soon", which never happened.

But after three months of 'near misses', I finally found one who agreed to meet me for lunch. And Sandra actually showed up! She was a petite, blonde woman almost my same age at fifty. Over our lunch, she explained how her husband has been impotent for over ten years. She had no intention of divorcing him, but she just needs a guy for sex once or twice each week. And she was even willing to pay for a hotel room to do it. We arranged to meet at a hotel Saturday evening, and it was the first time I ever cheated on my wife.

Sandra and I spent three hours fucking our brains out, and as we laid together in bed with both of us sated and finally drained, I asked "Does your husband know you're here having sex with me?"

"No," she replied. "He's at his club playing poker with some of his friends. I think he knows I have an occasional boyfriend. But if I'm home to fix dinner for him after work, and I don't stay out all night, he turns a blind eye to my activities. I don't ridicule him for his blood pressure issues and impotence, so we both get what we need. He gets home-cooked meals and a wife on his arm when he wants, and I get health insurance from his company. As an independent consultant in my line of work, private health insurance would be extremely expensive. ... Does your wife know you're doing this?"

"No. I don't know how she'd react. But the fact we don't have sex, and she doesn't even want to spend any time with me, I don't see why she would complain."

***

It was months of these kinds of liaisons with Sandra, fucking in hotel rooms, in a park on a blanket, or in her car. I didn't change my habits, still checking in with our daughter after work and having the occasional dinner with my wife (when she showed up.) And I never denied my wife any attention when she wanted me with her. I spent a whole day with her at her company's annual picnic. And I cancelled my plans with Sandra to take Linda to a concert she wanted, even skipping dinner that evening when she kept me waiting as she was (again) late getting ready!

But it was after our daughter went off to college, when one evening, I came home at seven o'clock on a work night from a quick hook-up with Sandra, and Linda was already home, waiting for me in our kitchen.

The tension in Linda's voice was thick enough to cut with a knife, as she said, "You're having an affair."

I saw the anger in her expression, and that caught me somewhat off guard. This was probably the first time in years she ever came home this early! But I didn't try to deny her accusation. I just calmly replied, "You're never around."

"Well, are you at least using condoms? Or do I have to start insisting on them to protect myself when you ask me for sex?"

"When was the last time I asked you?" I casually replied. "It's not like you ever want sex with me anymore. So, think of this as 'outsourcing', and you don't need to worry about it."

"You can sleep in the guest room," she insisted. And with that, she stormed out of the room in a huff, heading to her office upstairs, and I heard the door slam closed.

So, I went to the master bedroom and moved my clothes into the guest room.

Get Out!

The next two months were almost like living on a roller coaster. I didn't stop my fuck sessions with Sandra when she was available. And with Linda now coming home earlier trying to check on me, it only took two weeks before she angrily told me to move out. She even sent an e-mail to the kids announcing, "I've told your father to move out, and we're getting a divorce."

I moved into a one-room apartment, and when I invited our three kids to meet me at a restaurant, we discussed everything. My daughter said it best with "Well, who didn't see this coming? You two should have gotten divorced years ago!"

But as life's roller coasters go up, they also go down. With me out of the house, Linda had to learn how I managed the finances, paid the bills, checked in with the kids, and generally handled other inconvenient things in her life which freed her up to do whatever she wanted. She basically needed me as her 'personal assistant' to clean up all of the dirty work of life. So, she changed her mind about the divorce. But I didn't!

Over the next months, the roller coaster went up and down, with Linda scheming to get me to move back in by calling and asking me to fix something at the house. Since we had to finalize the separation agreement and coordinate the sale of the house, I was obligated to keep it in good repair. But when she'd suggest I move back in to make the repairs less time consuming, I would calmly say "No. I'll drive back and forth whenever I need," which would have her shouting at me over being stupid.

Linda's initial insistence that the divorce would be cheap and quick, gradually turned into her insistence on a mediator, then to demanding marriage counseling. When the marriage counselor she chose found out I was still having my affair, he was surprised.

"Linda HATES sex with me, so why would I want her to do that to herself? I'm freeing her from that responsibility by outsourcing!"

"You CAN'T keep DOING THAT!" he almost shouted.

Some counselors just have a warped sense of right and wrong.

And it wasn't as if Linda really wanted me. After the years of neglect she demonstrated, it was more as if she felt something was stolen from her, something she never used or needed, but still, I was her property.

Happily Ever After?

After I moved out, having my own apartment meant I could have Sandra over for sex whenever she was available, without having to plan ahead for a motel room. But she was soon seeing other options with my pending divorce. Sex with her was great. But when she suggested that she might spend the night with me, I knew it was time to end it. While I was willing to risk my own marriage for sex, I didn't want to be the cause of breaking up another marriage. And I was soon to be single, and not yet ready for another woman to tie me down. So, I started hitting the bars and nightclub scenes as the only way I knew of meeting other women.

Our divorce took almost a year to prepare and file the separation agreement, and finally receive the court decree. Linda got half of my military retirement pay for the rest of her life, half of our savings, and half of the equity from selling the house. But at least with her own job, I wasn't required to pay alimony or "spousal support" as they call it. So, sorry to disappoint, but the bitch wasn't burned in this case (nor was I, since she really deserved her share from raising our kids during my military career.) I told the kids they should always stay in touch with their mother, because she'd still always be their mother. Linda and I just went our separate ways.