Never Satisfied: Do Men Know What They Want? (22 page)

About five months into the miserable situation, I found myself doing things that were totally out of character. Like staying out late, flirting with strange women, and drinking way too much. My bowling buddies noticed the change immediately because I was no longer rushing home after the game. Of course, they started in on me about my change of lifestyle. And it didn’t help one bit that my bowling nickname was Able. You know, like able to come through at crunch time. Well, as you can imagine, they really had fun with that one.

“Isn’t it past your bedtime Able?” my teammate Jerry laughed.

“Yeah Able, we know you like to eat while it’s hot” Roland added.

“Very funny fellas, “I said trying not to sound too pathetic. “Can’t we just have a drink without all the wife jokes?”

“What fun would that be?” my friend Jerry added. “Besides, we didn’t give you the nickname Able for nothing. Now we might have to take it back since you’re not able to get any pussy at home.”

They all cracked up at that joke. And to tell you the truth, I wanted to laugh too, to keep from crying. What I needed was something to keep my mind off of sex. So, before I left the bowling alley that evening, I pulled Roland aside.

“Remember last month when you asked me if I had some spare time to give you a hand down at the cable company?” I asked.

“Yeah, I remember. You turned me down cold. And you know I could use your expertise.”

“Well, I’m ready to take you up on your offer.”

“Are you serious, Able?”

“Yes, I’m serious, but only under two conditions.”

“Ok, let’s hear it.”

“One, I only work weekends.”

“And two?”

“Two, I want a patch on my uniform top that says Able.”

We laughed and shook hands.

“It’s a deal. When can you start?”

“This weekend, I don’t have a damn else to do! I said. “I’m tired of jacking off!”

“I’ll see you Saturday morning at 10:00 a.m.”

“You better make it 11:00 a.m., I might get lucky Friday night.”

“Like I said,” Roland replied. “I’ll see you at 10:00 a.m.”

When I got home that evening, I told Lisa about the side job. She thought it was a great idea and seemed relieved. Not only was I making a few extra dollars but she also knew this would keep me from hounding her for sex over the weekends.

“I think working with Roland is a good idea sweetheart.” She said. “At least you’ll get an opportunity to utilize some of your electronic skills.”

“Yeah right,” I thought. She just didn’t want me utilizing any of my physical skills around the house, if you know what I mean.

As expected, the job started out pretty boring. During the first two weeks I didn’t do anything except watch the other technicians. On the job training, they called it. I didn’t care as long as I was getting paid. Things finally began to pick up after a few weeks. By then I was working on my own. I was assigned to do the trouble shooting on a new line that was being put into a high-end condo development. When that job was complete, I volunteered to do some of the installations inside the units. That’s when the old devil started working on me. Some of the female customers were beginning to ask for me by name when they had a technical problem. Of course, most of their problems were sexual. This went on for six months before I finally got myself in too deep.

It was 4:45 p.m. on a Saturday afternoon and I was getting ready to go home when the call came in from a customer in unit 2001. It was the penthouse suite. I had installed service there two weeks ago, but the housekeeper was complaining about a bad connection. So, I packed my supplies and headed over on my way home. When I arrived at 5:15 p.m., the door was open and the unit seemed empty. I shouted to see if anyone was there.

“Cable man! Is anybody home?”

“Come on in,” a woman’s voice yelled. “The problem seems to be back here.”

When I opened the door to the cafeteria, I understood exactly what she meant by that remark. Regina, who was the owner, was bent over the television wearing short tight gym shorts and a white bikini top. I could see the nipples on her breast protruding through the material. My mouth was open, but I couldn’t speak. I finally managed to gain my composure.

“So what seems to be the pr-problem?” I stuttered.

“Well Mr. Cable man,” she said very seductively “I’m having a problem with my reception.”

“Let me have a look at it.”

As I walked over to the television, I could see that the cable wire had been disconnected in the back. Now I was starting to really get the picture. This was a set up.

“Do you see the problem?” she asked.

“Yeah, I think I have it fixed.” I picked up the remote and set to the guide channel. “Is there anything else you need looked at?”

Why in the world did I have to say it like that? She took advantage of my sarcastic remark.

“As a matter of fact, there’s something else I need fixed. Did you bring all of your tools?”

“Excuse me!”

“Don’t tell me you don’t know what I’m talking about, Able.”

“How did you know my name?”

With a seductive look on her face, she walked over to me and pointed at my nametag. We were so close, our lips nearly touched.

“You are Able with the cable, aren’t you?” she said while licking her thick lips.

When she said that, I could feel the bulge in my pants growing. Too little sex and too much blood flowing from my brain caused me to hallucinate. Instantly, I had become a single, horny, and eligible bachelor. No wife, no kids, no guilt.

“Miss, I feel it’s only fair to warn you,” I said while she unsnapped my tool belt. “I’ve been sexually deprived for the last few months, and I’m liable to hurt somebody.”

That’s when she walked over to her purse and pulled out a pack of condoms.

“Is that a threat or a promise?”

Everything after that was a blur. For the next hour I corrected all of her reception problems, adjusted her satellite dish, and made sure her box was properly plugged in, if you know what I mean. By the time I finished, she had received basic and all of the super stations, all at no additional charge, of course.

Since that day, my marriage has been going much smoother. My wife doesn’t feel pressured into having sex, and I don’t feel frustrated being turned down. I simply put on my uniform, grab my toolbox, and head out for another love connection. And I don’t mean for the company either. I’m going to quit that job in a couple of weeks. After all, the whole purpose was to find something to do with my spare time, which I managed to do. Now I install a different kind of cable, the kind that doesn’t require wires or a remote. As a matter of fact, Regina was so impressed with my work, she turned me on to some of the other single female residence. If my wife is still rationing sex by the time she calls me back, I’ll be ready, willing and Able to do the job again.

Are there any women out there who can sympathize with this unfortunate man? Remember I said sympathize, not agree. Surely there are plenty of men who will not only sympathize with him but also applaud his decision. They know, as I do, that some women ration out sex for the sole purpose of control. It is no secret that women have used sex, or the lack of, to manipulate men into getting what they want. It is nature’s erotic tool to hammer out deals and adjust the situation to suit her needs. Likewise, it can be used as a primitive weapon to shoot down a man’s ego and kill his masculinity. There is no excuse for playing games with a man’s sexuality. Sex is for pleasure and propagation, not for payoff and punishment. For the women out there who have a legitimate physiological or psychological excuse for holding out, my advice to you is, “Seek professional help. Right away!” And to those of you who choose to continue using sex as a means to exploit, I say, ‘What goes around comes around.”

4
YOU, ME AND SHE

In the game of infidelity there are no innocent players. The other woman is a careless co-conspirator. The wife or girlfriend is a silent witness to the crime. And the cheating man is guilty as charged. In the end they will all pay for their part in this lust triangle, emotionally, financially, or with the loss of dignity. Play at your own risk!

I
f it is true that men who cheat are dogs, then the other woman must be the dogcatcher. Because without her full and unconditional cooperation the husbands and boyfriends of the world would have only one place to go, home. Single-handedly she can turn a happy home into a house of horror. With little or no shame she will aggressively pursue, wrongfully date, and shamelessly screw any man who tickles her fancy. And she doesn’t give a damn if he just happens to be married, engaged, shacking, or seriously involved. As far as she is concerned, the wife or girlfriend is his responsibility, not hers. This type of woman is cold-hearted and careless. She is out for herself and pledges allegiance to no one. Not to her co-workers, not to her best friend, and not even to her own blood. Any man who crosses her path is fair game, no exceptions. As one woman stated, “Women get along just fine at passion parties, business functions, and baby showers, but let an attractive man come into the picture and it’s every woman for herself.”

It is important to keep in mind that when I talk about the other woman. I’m referring only to those women who are consciously aware of the cheating man’s other relationships. The innocent and unsuspecting other woman who has been lied to, is not to blame, unless she continues to carry on the affair even after she discovers the reality of his situation. Then she too becomes an accessory to the crime. There is no legitimate excuse for any woman to stay with a man once the truth is out. Nevertheless, you and I both know they will still try to justify their dirty deed, either by declaring temporary insanity or blaming the man. For example, one woman said, “By the time I realized he was married, I was already in love, with him.” Please, give me a break! Women are fully aware when they are dealing with a man who has more than one oar in the water. They simply ignore the obvious signs to temporarily or permanently postpone confrontation. What she should have said was, “By the time I admitted to myself that I was playing the fool, I was already dick whipped.” This confession would have been more accurate and honest. Then there is the ever-popular excuse of, “All of the nice men I meet are either shacking or married.” That may well be true, but that doesn’t give you the right to have sex with them, now does it?

For an increasing number of women, the concept of “Man Sharing” is not only tolerable but preferred, or so they say. These are the women I label as “Vamps.” They intentionally seek out men who are already involved in other relationships, preferably marriages. And their mentality is shrewd and to the point. One woman’s statement expressed my point. “When I’m ready to have sex, I just pick up the phone and call my fuck buddy,” she said. “But after the sex is over, I want him gone. If he’s married, I know he has to go home to his wife.” Women who fall into this category have accepted sex as nothing more than a physiological need. No commitment, no emotional attachments, no expectations.

The professional woman is a perfect example. She is too busy with high-powered meetings and quarterly reports to take time out for a serious relationship. Instead she seeks a man who will not demand much of her time or cause stress with his complaining. She has a full agenda, a large bank account, and little patience. When the man arrives at her condo, she expects him to submit his proposal, execute his business, and promptly leave. The older and more mature woman is also a very good Vamp. She has had enough of fantasizing about Mr. Right. Now all she wants is Mr. Right On Time, with the sex that is. After years of falling in and out of love with insensitive men who only wanted a quickie, she has adopted a new philosophy, “What the hell? I may as well get mine, too.” In many cases the Vamp over forty has already been married, has children, or doesn’t want any, and is settled into a comfortable routine. In her world men are strictly for entertainment purposes.

By far the most interesting Vamp of them all is the cheating married woman. Don’t act so surprised, married women are out there creeping, too. Statistics show that 50-60% of them have cheated on their husbands, at least once. Some would argue the numbers are much higher. Maybe the other 40% were too busy cheating to be surveyed. No matter what the numbers, there is no doubt the married woman is Vamping. And she is often the most adamant about dating married men, only. Not just because they appear to be more stable than the single men who run the streets, but also because they can better identify with the inconvenience of her situation. After all, who can better sympathize with a married cheater than another married cheater?