The Numbers Gamebyleapyearguy©
I was reading an article the other day about adultery that I happened to see on an internet news site. The figures listed showed that thirty seven percent of the men that responded and twenty two percent of the women had admitted to having affairs.
That number shocked me. Not because of the number of cheating spouses but it made me ponder just who in the hell the men were fucking. The facts speak for them selves, unless there are about seven percent of the population of cheating men having gay liaisons, the numbers should be relatively the same.
After further computations and population research, I deducted that about thirty three million men were cheating on their wives and in the neighborhood of twenty two million women. Assuming that it takes two to tango as it were, I had to conclude that there should be a fairly equal amount of adulterous women or one super slut that had fucked about ten million men.
How am I doing so far?
The difference leads to another startling conclusion. What would that be you ask? Well let me tell you what the numbers say to me. Consider the fact that there are about one hundred and five million women in the United States over the age of eighteen and of that number thirty three million or around thirty two percent cheated. If you compared that against the twenty two percent that admitted to cheating on the survey, an astounding ten percent difference, one could come to the conclusion that there are about ten million lying, cheating, slutty whore wives out there trying to pull the wool over your eyes in regards to the survey.
Check the numbers your self, I'll wait...
You see, it doesn't quite add up does it?
So if you assume that my numbers are in the ball park, you could conceivably take a stab in the dark and confront your wife about the affair that you are not even suspecting her of having and you would have a one in three shot of being right. Does that scare you even just a little? Well it should.
My theory probably seems skewed to all but one or two of you, but hey, nobody believed Einstein at first either, not to mention Newton or Ron Popeil. Oh fuck, you know the guy that invented the vegamatic.
I was across the street the other day at my buddy Fred's. We were tinkering with his lawn mower in the garage when I told him about my startling findings. He, the poor dumb shmuck, laughed at what I said, "You're crazy Albert, do you have any freaking idea how much trouble that your lame brained scheme would stir up if I asked Peggy if she was having an affair?"
I hadn't really thought about it but the math doesn't worry about that part. Fred was right, it would cause some grief. There was also the lying slut factor to consider, a confrontation would not necessarily render the truth. I had much to think about still, there had to be a way to prove the numbers.
After Joanne, my wife, and I had dinner that night, I headed straight to the family computer. Now that the kids are grown and on their own I won't have worry about anyone stumbling onto my data because Joanne doesn't even know where the on button is. I started working on a spreadsheet to prove, if only to myself, that I was onto something big.
I started by listing all the spouses in the cul-de-sac, there were ten houses all with married couples. Twenty names went on to the list starting with mine and Joanne's. I would methodically go through the list and eliminate them one by one, or not, in case I was to prove infidelity.
I knew for a fact that I had never cheated on Joann, so I put an "F" next to my name to indicate fidelity. I then moved down the list and typed another "F" next to Joanne's.
Next I drew a map with the ten houses, I labeled my house number one and continued with the labels working clockwise until I reached number ten.
I considered the known factors and went directly to house number five, Salvatore and Ethel. Sal had bragged repetedly that he had been banging his secretary. I went to the spreadsheet and typed a big red "A" next to his name. Shit this was going to be a piece of cake, I'd have supporting evidence of my theory in no time at all.
For a few moments, I thought of the neighborhood gossip. There'd been some rumors but I wanted to base my findings on facts to make it more scientific. Decidedly, the way to go was with first hand knowledge, like in Sal's case, or an eyewitness report.
This presented a whole new set of problems, as you might guess, I couldn't wander around the block asking the others if they were cheating now could I? It was up to me to get the goods on each and every one of the cheating bastards.
For the next week, I researched day and night to glean any insight available on how people cheat. The Internet proved to be a vast chasm of stories on cheaters and their unknowing spouses.
I read hundreds of stories about women that took pleasure in humiliating their husbands and strange as it may seem to you, some of the husbands seemed to enjoy it more than the wives, go figure.
The deeper I dug the more that was revealed. Mistresses, boy-toys, swapping, cream-pies, cuckolds, prostitution and list goes on and on. Men do it, women do it, the birds and bees even do it. I got to wandering if I was the only one on earth that didn't. That created another new problem, suspicion.
I got the first inkling of trouble about then. Reading so many stories about sex was making me feel frisky. Joanne was all too happy to accommodate my randy spurt and even tried to get me to try a few new things in bed. Joanne and I were not on the adventurous side, at least I never was. She seemed to want me to indulge in the more creative side of lovemaking, things that I'd not even considered before.
Suspicion is an evil thing, it plays tennis with your brain cells. Every face I looked into, I saw a big red "A" staring back. Yes, even in Joanne's. There would be no further work on Project X until I was sure that Joanne wasn't in the thirty something percentile.
Over the next few days, I used many of the techniques that I'd read about to determine whether Joanne was in fact cheating on me. I went through her cell phone records, zip. I relentlessly searched the house, nada. I looked for any signs of new sexy underwear, just a new package of granny panties. I even went so far as to stop by the house at random time during the day, my net gain was one very tasty ham and cheese on rye.
What the hell did all this nothing mean? It was beginning to drive me up a wall. I started having troubles sleeping. The nightmares of Joanne with some other guy were killing me and I don't mean in a figurative way. I was loosing weight and starting to have pains in my upper chest and left arm.
For the third night in a row, I lay awake watching Joanne sleep peacefully. At about four A. M. my left arm went numb.
I reached for my wife and shook her gently, "Jo... Jo... Joanne, wake up."
She opened her eyes as if she were in a fog, " What is it Baby, are you ok?"
"No, I'm not ok," I responded.
"What is it Albert, heartburn again? Do you want me to fix you an Alka Seltzer?"
I decided right then that the direct approach would be the best, "Joanne, I need to know, have you ever lied to me about anything?" lets see how she reacts when cornered.
"Well sure I have Honey, I do it all the time," she said calmly.
"Aha! I knew it. I knew you were hiding something from me. How long Joanne, and why, why, why would you do it?" the sudden realization brought tears to my eyes.
"I started right after we were married, I'm sorry Albert but I just wanted to spice things up a little."
"Oh God Joanne, how could you do this to me?" I cried.
"Albert, I've been doing it for over twenty years now, it hasn't ever bothered you before," she reasoned.
Twenty years, oh God, "Jeezus Jo, twenty years? How often?"
She seemed awfully calm about all this. I was a goddamned wreck, "Oh, I don't know, every week or two I'd guess."
Oh crap, fifty two weeks a year averaged out at let's say about forty times a year, times twenty years, that's umm, about eight hundred times, Ah, Joanne how could you.
"I'll stop if it means that much to you Honey, I was doing it for both of us but I promise not to do it anymore," she said sheepishly.
"For Christ's sake Joanne, didn't you ever stop to think how I'd feel? It's tearing me apart inside," I screamed.
"Let me get you that Alka Seltzer, you'll feel better in a few minutes," she consoled.
"God damn it, would you stop with the Alka Seltzer. I'll never get over this, can't you see what you've done to me, to us. Joanne, think about what you've done to the kids, think about them at least."
"Well they never seem to mind, in fact they always told me that they enjoyed it," she said.
The kids too, this was far worse than I ever could have imagined. I suddenly felt sick to my stomach and barely made it to the toilet.
Joanne rushed in to see me heave the last of my dinner into the commode, "Oh God Albert, what have I done, I'm so sorry, what have I done to you?" she said in tears.
My world was in shambles, my meatloaf dinner was in the toilet, hell my marriage was floating around in there too on a cloud of partially digested mashed potatoes. My heart was broken and I felt like an elephant was sitting on my chest.
Joanne was trying to help me off the floor, she at least seemed to be sorry now but wasn't it all too little too late? Fuck, eight hundred times she cheated on me. When we made love it was two, three even four times a night. Jeezus H Christ, it was getting worse all the time. If my math was correct, she had betrayed me between two to three thousand times. My knees where shaking now so I let Joanne help but I didn't want to. I couldn't even imagine touching her ever again, the lying bitch.
I woke up, the elephant was replaced by a Volkswagen. The pain was different than before but ten times worse. Where? Shit there were tubes and wires. I closed my eyes and watched Joanne with her faceless lover.
So many different times in my life I had counted on that woman. She supported me when I was sick, she was there for me when I was sad. How many times had we talked of growing old together. How many times had she told me how much she loved me?
At least twice a day, once in the morning and again before we went to sleep at night. On my birthday, she always threw in five or six extras. Christmas a few more, and lets not forget each and every time the kids did any thing special. She'd get that wonderful proud mother smile and squeeze my hand, "I love you so much Albert."
I was so proud to have her with me. She made the world right when I couldn't do it by myself. I always thought of her as one in a million, huh, I guess she just one in three now.
"Albert... Honey..." I could hear Joanne's voice say.
"Dad... come on Pop open your eyes..." it was little Al.
"Daddy please..." and Kit too.
They were all there but why, hadn't I suffered enough? I tried to move but I couldn't. I tried to talk but the tube down my throat wouldn't allow it. I didn't want to see any of them here, and by the way, where the fuck was "here" anyway. This wasn't my bed, shit it wasn't even my house and who the fuck is the little bald guy with the beady eyes?
He must be the lover, well he just opened a whole can of whoop-ass. When I get free from this torture chamber there'll be hell to pay. I'll bet they tied me down to make me watch them in the depraved game they're all playing, well they picked the wrong guy to mess with.
I pretended to be asleep and that wasn't too hard because I was tired as hell. When I woke up again, it was dark and Joanne was the only one standing guard over me. I started to work on the restraints on my hands, thank goodness they weren't too tight. Joanne was sleeping in the chair next to the bed so I had to be extra quiet as I worked on the leather straps.
The bastards must have drugged me when I wasn't looking but I've got news for them, they're fuckin' with the wrong guy. I'm going to take them all down one by one starting with the bald headed fuck in the white smock. Then I'll deal with the kids. Joanne will be last, I still can't believe she has my children involved. It gives me chest pains just thinking about little Al and my darling Kit going along with their mothers sick sex games.
I took me another two hours to free myself from the bed and all the tubes and wires. They'd obviously gone to an awful lot of trouble securing me, this was looking like they'd done this to someone before. Joanne was still sleeping, good, now to find a way out of this place. I crept out into the corridor trying to stay unnoticed, which would not be easy considering I was buck-naked, the bastards had stolen my clothes too.
What kind of facility was this? It was huge, I must have stumbled onto some kind of professional cuckold operation. There were dozens of rooms and elevators too. My God, the police need to know about this place. Shit, a guy with a mop, just act natural Al, maybe he won't notice.
Whistle and just play it cool, he probably used to seeing naked guys out strolling in the halls.
"Hey man, what the fuck you think you're doin'? You get some clothes on ya pervert," he ordered.
I'd been compromised, nothing I could do now but run, so I did. I ran to the end of the hall, shit a dead end. I streaked by the guy mopping the floor on the way back. I had to make it to the bank of elevators, that was my ticket to freedom. No, they're on to me now, I could see two women security guards coming at me dressed in green pajamas.
"ALBERT!" Joanne shrieked.
I was trapped, no where to run, well, almost nowhere.
"You'll never take me alive," I screamed.
I turned and ran back toward the guy with the mop.
"Hey you muthafucka, I just cleaned that floor," he yelled.
There was only one way out, the window. My chest was hurting like hell, if I made out I was going to make an appointment with my doctor. A guy my age can never be too careful when it comes to his health you know.
I woke up in the hospital, my own doctor was there. This place looked the same as the cuckatorium, hell, it looked like the same room but Dr. Floyd was checking my heart and blood pressure so I knew I was safe. I must have made good my escape, what a relief.
"What happened?" I asked.
"You had a minor episode Al," he told me.
"You call that minor?" I said with some confusion.
"Yes Albert, with today's modern medicine we were able to clear the clogged artery with a small balloon. We call it angioplasty," he stated.
"NO! I mean what happened at that other place? Are they under arrest, did somebody call the cops?"
"Al, you need to get some rest now. You may still be a little doped up. Joanne can explain it all to you." He nodded as he slid the needle into the IV tube and pushed the plunger.
"You keep that rotten bitch away from me. I don't want her near me ever again... donn'tt... youuu..." I faded to oblivion.
The nurse told me it was time to get me back on solid food again and that cheered me up some. I gathered it had been nearly a week since my last meal. When my food was brought in, my mouth was nearly watering at the prospect of chewing something besides Jell-O.
They served meat loaf, one of my favorites.
"They didn't put any onions or peppers in this did they?" I asked the nurse.
She just shook her head and went to the next room. I took a bite and it may as well have been cardboard. It was bland and didn't taste any thing like Joanne's. I was going to miss the way she cooked, she knew just how I liked things but tasty meatloaf doesn't mean I would put up with a cheating wife.
Dr. Floyd had suggested to Joanne that it would be a good idea for her to keep her distance for the time being. He didn't want to upset me until I had more time to recover. I figured it was their mother that corrupted the children so I didn't hold it against them, well, maybe just a little.
Kit and Al Jr. were there to check me out of the hospital. Kit was the one that broached the subject first.
She asked flat out, "Daddy, what are you and Mom fighting about? I've never even seen you raise your voice to her before and now we're worried that we won't have a family if things continue like they are," Little Al nodded in agreement.
I stared down into my hands looking for an answer, "Honey, your mother has been... She's been..." Hell I couldn't even get the words past my throat. I was choked up and about to cry over the thought.
Joanne was insistent that we get together and talk about why I was so angry. Couldn't she see what she'd done? Our whole family was torn to shreds by her actions and she didn't understand why I was mad. I would never have agreed to sit down with her if she hadn't offered to cook my favorite meal.
It made me uncomfortable that she had invited the kids. I wasn't in favor at all about having a sexually oriented conversation with them in the room but if Joanne could take it I guess I could too. After all, they were adults now and by the sounds of things they knew more than I did or had participated in some way. What a revolting thought.
It was agreed that we would be civilized and eat first. It all looked so good I almost forgot why I was there. Joanne was a marvelous cook and always knew my soft spot and she had outdone her self with this meal. So I thought until I took the first bite of the delicious looking meat loaf.
"What is this stuff?" I asked in utter disappointment, "This tastes like that crap they serve in the hospital."
The kids agreed with my assessment.
"I tried a different recipe, with your condition I thought it was best to leave out the peppers and onions," she explained.
"Peppers and onions? You've never put those in before, you know how much I despise them."
"Albert... Honey, I've always used them. I know how you said you didn't care for the texture so I've always put them in the blender to disguise the chunks."
I was confused, very confused, so I went to a place in my mind where things are clear and true, the numbers. I could only estimate mind you but over the years as near as I could figure, Joanne must have served her meatloaf once every week or two. This equation was starting to sound familiar. Eight hundred times, suddenly it all fell into place.
Joanne, my dear sweet wife was meeting her lover on the days that she cooked my favorite meal.
Suddenly, I was infuriated, "You're seeing "HIM" again tonight aren't you?" I slammed my fist into the middle of my mashed potatoes.
Joanne flinched, "Seeing who? Albert, I'm worried about you, should I call Doctor Floyd?"
"That goddamned man you are fucking behind my back," I seethed.
"Daddy!" Kit gasped.
"What the hell..." Little Al gulped.
"Mother," Kit gasped again.
"I'm calling an ambulance, your father has lost his mind," Joanne exclaimed.
After a short stay in the psychiatric ward, two things happened. First, it was carefully explained to me that in fact Joanne had never even came close to being unfaithful to me. I was relieved of course to have my loving family back but it was with some reluctance that I agreed to part two of my recovery. The bastards took away my computer.
"Ok Honey, just close your eyes and put your tongue right in the middle," Joanne coaxed.
I'd do anything for my beautiful wife to keep her happy but I never thought in a million years it would come to this, "Hey... that ain't half bad," I exclaimed in surprise.
"Ooh... yes Albert, that's it. Get your face right down in there," she purred.
With juice dripping from my chin, I said, "It's kinda tangy and sweet at the same time."
I ran my tongue the length of the oozing slit and savored her hot wet treat.
"That's it Daddy, go for it," My baby girl, Kit, insisted.