Deja Vue

The following story is fiction. Even with that all of the people are over the age of 21 and make their own bad choices. I'll warn you in advance that the ending is left open. If you hate that then maybe skip this one, or write one if it bothers you a lot.

And yes for the people that may have read some of the other things I have posted it is another story of a narcissistic woman. Probably because I have met a few of them in my life, my wife is not one of them, so no need to worry about me okay.

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We've been here before, too many times in fact. Maybe not this exact location but in this situation. What situation you ask, well the one where she flirts and teases guys while I get ignored. We've had more than a few arguments about it and it's always the same "I'll behave next time, but this time is some other time's "next time" just like the last time.

Before I start to come across as the jealous and controlling type let me assure you it didn't start out this way. I understand her desires to feel like she is attractive and sexy, I do really. Let's go back a bit and see if I can explain it some.

When I met Evone she was a single mother of two girls living in a smaller town in central Arkansas. She was the standard small-town girl, grew up in a fairly isolated family and social setting. Looking back at her childhood pictures she wasn't the beauty pageant contest winner, girl next door. She was pretty but not turn every head in the room beautiful. It wasn't till later in life that her looks matured and she climbed a couple numbers on the 1-10 scale.

By the time she grew into the woman she is today she was married and raising her girls, didn't help that the asshole left her for a younger model after fifteen years of wedded mistake, they got married because he knocked her up.

So, my dumb ass shows up and we fall in love. One of the things I loved about her was that she was a beautiful woman and didn't seem to notice it. You know what I mean, there's the beautiful girls that know they are and use it to their advantage, and there are truly beautiful women that don't seem to know it. Yes, beauty is in the eye of the beholder but to me she was beautiful.

When we got together Evone was a young looking 33-year-old with a petite five foot four inch body and long curly brunette hair. While she may have been cheated by the boob fairy getting just an A cup, she was gifted with a wondrous ass, being an ass man, I was thrilled with the arrangement.

Long story short we dated, fell in love, and got married. I was on top of the world, my wife was a beautiful woman that enjoyed sex, and she wasn't the type that needed a lot of material possessions. It wasn't till later when the girls had grown and moved out the things started to go bad.

In some ways I tolerated her change in behavior since it is at least partly my fault that we got here. I took an innocent girl and messed it all up. Our wedding or actually our honeymoon was the biggest impetus for change. We married and honeymooned at a resort in Jamaica, it was beautiful, and we had a wonderful time. Even with us blindly booking it all at a notorious swinger's resort. No there was no swapping or anything like that but there was a sexual tone to the place, and we did have fun.

I remember her in near panic when one night in the disco is was Pajama night and she wanted to go but the PJ's she packed were meant for her husband on their honeymoon not some casual around the house set. But we had spent the day soaking in the sun and drinking and by the time the disco opened that night we or rather she decided we would never see any of these people again and next thing I know we are dressing to go to the party.

I got off easy with silk boxers and a T shirt, she was wearing one of my favorite lingerie sets. The set was a burgundy colored teddy that was cut high at the waist so in the front the lace just covered her pussy, and the back was nothing but a string that disappeared between her ass cheeks. Over the teddy was a sheer burgundy top with long sleeves and was just long enough to reach the bottom of her ass. She spent forever on hair and makeup before donning her black high heels and announcing she was ready.

She was visibly nervous as we walked across the resort but once we were in the club and the music and a shot or two hit her, she seemed to be fine. We danced some, she danced a bit more without me, she danced with some others both guys and girls. It was fun, I have never minded her dancing with others since I don't like it near as much as she does. And even with everyone in their PJs it was pretty harmless. Sure, there were a few guys that wanted to be too touchy feely, but she knows how to shut that down, and she did.

Not long after that trip she began to question me about her breasts, like would I like it if she had bigger tits type questions. I truly didn't care and told her that, but I also told her that she could get an augmentation if she wanted it for her. She tried for a while to get me to say I would like bigger tits, but I never did, because I really did not care. Anyway, she got the operation and was boosted from an A cup to a C cup that tends to run over. I will not say I didn't like the new look and yeah, I enjoyed playing with her new boobs. But she did it for herself not to please me.

Hindsight being what it is I'd be more forceful in telling her that no she did not need bigger boobs if I had the chance. At first the change in her was good, she was more confident in her looks and would dress to impress more often when we went out. And there was certainly a change in our sex life with her new attitude toward her body. It was good, happy wife happy life right. Until it wasn't.

Evone, like I said earlier had a world class ass, and shapely legs to support it. She had a pretty face with beautiful blue eyes to go with that, now add some enhanced boobs and she begins to get attention from guys, too many guys. And after a while she begins to thrive on that attention. Which brings us back to the present.

The last two years AB, or after boob job, have been trying. We've fought more these last two years than the ten years before it combined. Most of those arguments have been the same as the one we are headed for tonight. Somewhere along the line it seems that my compliments and praise mean nothing, while random dick walking can say something cheesy and she loves it. It was tiresome two years ago, now it's got me wondering if I need to keep doing this.

The current situation is typical, we went to dinner first then she wants me to take her "dancing" meaning she gets to dance while I watch her purse and fetch her drinks, assuming she doesn't have some asshat willing to do that second part already. We or at least I talked about this right before we hit the club, I distinctly remember asking her to remember that she is here with her husband and not leave me alone at the table again.

I'll admit that the early stages of her new persona were not all bad, when she first became aware of how much fun she could have being a flirt it wasn't so severe, and she was usually hot as hell in bed those nights. Now when she wants to fuck after a night out, I wonder which of her admirers she is mind fucking while using me as a living dildo.

So, even after asking her to try and keep the flirting toned down, I'm nursing a drink while she basically humps a guy's leg on the dance floor. There was a time when she'd see the look on my face and back off, but now it seems I just don't matter.

Why the fuck do I feel bad about "interrupting" their dance to ask her if she is ready to leave, and the snide look from him is not helping at all. Of course, she isn't ready, she never wants to leave. I am headed back to purse watching detail when a thought hits me that even if she hasn't crossed a certain line, I'm still a cuckold. The worst thing an adulterer does isn't having sex, it's disrespecting their partner. Even if she hasn't had sex the disrespect is there and has been for a while.

As she and her dance buddy go back to their "dancing" I come to the painful conclusion that without trust and respect there is no point in staying together. Many nights I have sat on purse detail watching and waiting while she ignores and disrespects me, mainly because I was afraid of how far she might go if I were not there. And that fact drives the last nail in the coffin of our relationship.

I am normally a planner; I like to make sure all the details are covered before starting any new project. But tonight, it's just not going to be an option. I simply cannot do this anymore.

The cooler, cleaner air in the parking lot feels good. Turning out of the crowded lot and onto the open road feels even better. I do feel somewhat like a coward just leaving like this, but I see no point in another failed attempt to make my point. The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results. I've been asked by myself, and some of our friends just how long was I going to put up with her shit, I guess its whatever number this time was.

I was home about twenty minutes when my phone rang, the picture of her from my contacts was one from happier times and tugged a bit at the heart strings, but only for a moment. The fifteen-minute drive puts it at just about thirty-five minutes since I left the bar.

"Hello"

"Where are you?"

"Home"

"Why did you leave?"

"Let me ask you this when did you notice I wasn't there?"

"Just now, why?"

"How long do you think I've been gone?"

"I don't know, I was dancing"

"You were humping his leg while he groped your ass, but okay you were dancing so you didn't even know I left for over half an hour. I left because I was tired of being alone."

"Are you coming back to pick me up?"

"Sorry I'm kind of busy right now"

"Busy, what do you mean you're busy?"

"Well right now I'm packing some stuff and then I'll be looking for a new place to stay."

"What you can't be serious you better come back and ..."

It was oddly satisfying hanging up the phone, it would be more fun to have an old-style phone to slam but mashing the little red icon still works.

Up till the last part of the call I hadn't really decided what to do. Her angry tone and the complete lack of any sort of apology for ignoring me pretty much answered any questions I needed to ask. She doesn't see the problem and likely never will.

Of course, she called as soon as I hung up, went to voicemail. Text message follows, "If you don't get here soon, I may just go home with someone else!" My reply was "I doubt it will be your first time". Again, the phone rings.

"What?"

"How can you accuse me of something like that?"

"It's not hard for me really, having seen you dry hump so many times on the dance floor right in front of me it really would not be that big of leap a for you to fuck them behind my back, you obviously have little or no respect for me so why would you expect me to believe you wouldn't."

That one at least earned me a pause before she answered me.

"Please come and get me so we can talk, I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry too, I'm sorry that the many times we have talked before didn't help, I'm sorry you didn't care enough to listen to what I said, I'm sorry you lied every time you said you were sorry before and then did it again. I'm sorry because I still love you, but I can't do this anymore and you've proven you can't or won't stop. Get an Uber to bring you back here, I'm leaving in thirty minutes and if you're not here the next time we communicate will be through lawyers."

I hung up before she answered, we've done words a bunch of times, actions will say more now.

Minutes into the countdown clock I got a text saying "on my way" well that's a start at least.

Twenty one minutes into the deadline I heard the front door slam and high heels clacking across the wood floor of the living room. When she hits the bedroom door she starts in with "What the fuck is wrong with you leavi..." the rant dies when she sees me and the open suitcase on the bed.

Softer now she starts again "why do you have your suitcase out?"

"I told you on the phone I was packing, why does it surprise you now. Could it be you expect me to roll over and accept it just like every other time?" Closing the suitcase seems like closing the book on our story, I always hated dramas.

"Baby, I'm sorry please stay and we can talk."

"I have nothing left to say to you that I haven't before. I'm too angry to be in the room with you let alone try to talk. Maybe I'll call you in a few days and we can try then, maybe not."

That all happened on a Friday night, there were lots of calls and texts from her, but I just let them go to voice mail or deleted them. Shutting off the phone simplified the whole thing. What was she going to say that wasn't something she'd said before? I'd had enough empty promises.

I've said I like to plan things, it felt odd but kind of liberating to not actually have one. I know for instance that I will have to talk to her, but I don't know when that will happen, or even what I'll say to her. It's the weekend so not much can be done toward the more serious matters like finding a lawyer or doing damage control on the finances.

Surprisingly after the anger dies a bit there isn't a lot do dwell on, I've been through all these emotions too many times, all the stages of grief are as simple as finding a favorite shirt in my closet. I do them by routine now.

Two full days without the constant companion of a cell phone is weird, but every chirp or vibration is a reminder of what lies ahead, and I don't want or need to deal with it right now.

I spent the weekend at a hotel, it had all I needed for the time being. That pretty much was a bed, a restaurant, and a bar. I didn't drink myself into a coma, but it was kind of nice to have a few beers and not have to worry about driving home or seeing her fuck on the dance floor.

I couldn't completely avoid thinking about her, us, whatever might come, but I didn't just stay in the room and worry about it. You don't ignore a three-hundred-pound gorilla in the room. Besides I'm usually a plan type person so there's always some sort of plan in development.

Monday was a workday, so life must go on. Turning the phone on I can see a timeline of her calls and messages, Saturday morning shows heavy calls and texts with gradual slowing over the afternoon, the evening hours had an increase again till late night before stopping. Sunday morning was much the same but by the afternoon she seems to have figured out I'm not going to answer her. Her last text was early that afternoon and she said she was sorry for everything, that she loved me, and that when I was ready, we needed to talk.

I waited till just before time to leave work before calling her to let her know I'd be at the house around 6pm to talk to her. We did talk, but in the end it didn't matter. I'd heard it all before and said it all before and that saying about insanity still applies. I did still love her, and I think she loved me but too much damage had been done. I think she finally understood that and with a lot of tears and a hug we parted.

Divorce wasn't in my best interest and she said she didn't want one. Legal separation seemed the best choice. She wanted to go to counseling, I told her that would be good for her, but no I'm good for now. I'd already faced my demons, I'm not free of blame for where we are, but I'd been over this several times before.

Yes, I'll admit that what happened could be partly my fault for not being stern enough when she started to change, but where is that line exactly? How to you separate what is a healthy growth in her own self image from an unhealthy need for validation? If I'm guilty of anything it's being too much in love. I loved her enough to let her be who she wanted to be, to let her experience life. We'd had several fights about her going down a dark path, but she walked that path voluntarily. Just because I wasn't an asshole that "kept my woman in line" doesn't mean she can show the level of disrespect she got to.

It's somewhat akin to the story of the frog and boiling water really. She didn't just flip a switch and go from shy mouse to Mistress of the dance. Most of the changes at first were good, for both of us, and then it was just for her. There will be those that judge me for "letting her get away this this shit", but then there would be those that would judge me for being a "controlling asshole" if I had not. At the end of it all she is or was my wife, not my possession. I can ask her not to do things, even tell her that those things piss me off, but I can't make her choices for her.

We've been separated for six months now. She tried for a while to talk me out of the separation, but those calls have stopped. I know she is seeing a counselor and our girls tell me it's helping. Me I just work and spend my off hours with my hobbies.

I've dated a few times, but nothing has come of it, I'm just not interested in finding someone right now. The girls tell me their mom hasn't dated anyone or even gone out with friends since we split. They tell me she's told them it's her fault that we are separated and not to hate me, they seem to understand that.

Last time I saw her I almost didn't recognize her, short hair, no makeup, baggy clothes, so unlike the attention queen I suffered with the last part of our marriage. It hurts to see her like that, but then it doesn't. I can see the girl I fell in love with in today's version, but my mind still sees the one that hurt me.

It's getting time to decide on whether to go on to a divorce or not. We've been separated long enough it would be a simple matter of dividing assets and signing on the dotted line. I'm torn really, she does seem to have changed, but there is still doubt in the back of my mind.

They say you need to ask yourself the question would I be better off with her or without her, problem is I've asked and I just don't know.