We just celebrated our 25th wedding anniversary without much to celebrate. When it came time to re-enact our wedding night, he locked himself in the bathroom and cried.
Today, he says he has a big secret to tell me. He’s impotent, he says, and he wants me to be the first to know. Why not tell me something I don’t know! He actually thinks I haven’t noticed.
This marriage is in trouble. A woman has needs. Yesterday, I saw a picture of the Washington Monument and burst into tears.
A miracle! A new drug will fix his “problem.” It’s called Viagra. He says if he takes Viagra, things will be just like they were on our wedding night. I replaced his Prozac with the Viagra, hoping to lift something besides his mood.
What absolute bliss!
Isn’t life wonderful? But it’s difficult to write while he’s doing that!
This Viagra thing has gone to his head. No pun intended! Yesterday, at Burger King, the manager asked me if I’d like a Whopper. He thought they were talking about him. But, have to admit it’s very nice -- I don’t think I’ve ever been so happy.
I think he took too many over the weekend. Yesterday, instead of mowing the lawn, he was using his new friend as a weed whacker. Also, I’m getting a little sore.
No time to write. He might catch me.
Okay, I admit it. I’m hiding. I mean, a girl can only take so much. And to make matters worse, he’s washing the Viagra down with whiskey! What am I going to do?
Basically, I’m being screwed to death. This is like living with a Black and Decker drill. I woke up this morning hot-glued to the bed. Even my armpits hurt! He’s a complete pig.
I wish he was gay. I’ve stopped wearing make-up, cleaning my teeth, and bathing but still he comes after me! Even yawning is now dangerous!
Every time I shut my eyes, there’s a sneak attack! It’s like going to bed with a SCUD missile. I can hardly walk and if he tries that “Oops, sorry!” thing again, I’m gonna kill that bastard.
I’ve done everything I can to turn him off. Nothing works. Even dressing like a nun just made him hornier. Help me!
I think I’ll have to kill him. I stick to everything I sit on. The cat and dog won’t go near him and our friends don’t come over any more. Last night I told him to go fuck himself -- and he did!
The bastard has started to complain about getting headaches. I hope the bloody thing explodes. I did suggest he might try stopping the Viagra and going back on Prozac.
Switched the pills but it doesn’t seem to have made any difference. Christ! Here he comes again!
He’s back on Prozac. The lazy sod just sits there in front of the TV all day with that remote control in his hand and expects me to wait on him. What bliss!