CenTexMan

Confessions of a Tortured Soul
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2001-12-14 02:49:08 (UTC)

The Beginning

My life is spinning out of control. No, really. I'm not a
drug abuser or a criminal or anything like that. To look
at me you'd think I'm a normal person. But I'm anything
but. I stumbled across this diary site and thought it
would be a good place to unburden myself--that perhaps by
writing this all down I would somehow be able to make sense
of it.

Probably a bit of introduction is in order. My name is R.,
and I'm a television news producer in a large Southwestern
city. I'm 38 years old, married to my wife of 17 years,
N. We have three children, A, 10; S, 6 and E, 3. N is a
High School theater teacher, and between the two of us we
make enough to keep a roof over our heads and food on the
table.

Sound normal enough so far? Just wait.

I guess that's enough background to launch into my story.
If there's any further background needed, I'll slip it in
along the way. The particular tale I want to share begins
in the Fall of 1995. I had taken a new job a few months
earlier that entailed a commute of about an hour. Because
of my wife's specialized job and our children's schools, we
decided not to move. So every workday I was gone at least
eleven hours. I left before the children were fully awake
and returned home after they were already asleep. With N's
extra-curricular activities, we hardly saw each other. And
my schedule would later become even more crazy--and N and I
became less connected.

None of this is an excuse for my behavior. I firmly
believe in free will and an individual's ability--and
obligation--to do the right thing. But taking this job
began an estrangement that resulted in my making some bad
choices.

At work, I began reading an alternative newspaper. Most of
it was complete trash, and only a few articles were of any
worth. But at the back of this paper were personal ads--
including a category called "variations". These ads were
not the typical lonely-hearts classifieds. These were
people who were seeking an entirely different experience.
Not love, but sex.

These ads were good for a laugh or a cheap thrill. But
eventually curiosity and boredom got the better of me and I
actually answered one. I don't remember the precise
wording, but it involved a woman who wanted a group of men
to have sex with her. I had seen videos with these scenes
and had been turned on by them, so I thought I'd like to
try it for myself.

The man who answered the phone was named Hugh. He
described the situation for me. The woman in question was
not his girlfriend or wife, but someone with whom he was
acquainted. Before granting me permission to be part of
the group, Hugh wanted to meet with me.

I drove to his house the next day. Hugh turned out to be
an architect--one who was doing pretty well for himself,
from the looks of it. He answered the door dressed only in
a towel, which he dropped once I came in. I'm still not
sure whether or not he did this to gauge my reaction. I
just did my best to make eye contact.

Hugh told me he was in getting ready for a meeting with a
client, and had just gotten out of the shower when I
arrived. After a bit of small talk he told me the time and
place for the gathering: the following Tuesday night at a
Red Roof Inn. This was Thursday, so I had four days to
think about what was to come.

I need to interject here that up until this point, I had
never had sex with anyone besides N. In fact, she's just
about the only person I ever dated--and the only one I
dated seriously. So by this time in our marriage--11 years
later--I guess I was just feeling the need for something
different.

This was different alright. Tuesday came, and I was as
nervous as a cat in a room full of rocking chairs. I
called in sick to work (by this time I was working
evenings) and prepared myself for a night of hedonism.

I very nearly missed the event.


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