by Vivian Ward
I knew it wouldn’t take long for her to ask what my problem was; only a few messages. While I’m grateful that she’s responding to me, it kind of surprises me how willingly she’d talk to someone she doesn’t even know. Then again, we did meet on a website while playing games so there’s that.
Instead of texting her back right away, I slide my phone into my pocket and get back to work. I don’t ever want to be compared to Slacker Gene so I make sure that I return to work in 30 minutes instead of whenever I feel like it.
Chapter 6
Madison
The whole day has dragged by at work, but I’m not complaining. It bought me some extra time to finish the hot, little novel that I started reading yesterday when I got home from work and text the stranger back.
It's a shame that mine and Drew’s sex life is in a slump because that book has me all sorts of turned on. And it’s also kind of got me thinking about some of my dark, hidden fantasies. I’d never dream of telling Drew what they are because he’d probably laugh or think I was some sort of freak.
Communication has never been either of our strong suits. It’s never easy to tell someone what you truly think, and it’s even harder if the conversation is unpleasant.
Aside from finishing the rest of my novel, I did text with the unknown number. I hope whatever that person is going through isn’t too bad.
It’s got to suck to finally reach a point of desperation that you’ll message a complete stranger and hope to get a response from them. I felt a pang in my heart when they said that they didn’t text the wrong number.
In reality, maybe they didn’t text the wrong number at all. Maybe some higher power had that person message me because I care about people. I like to believe that people can confide in me because I’m a down-to-earth person and I empathize with others.
But whoever this person is, they didn’t respond to my last message. I hope everything is okay on their end or that they’re just too busy to answer. I believe that having someone to talk to can significantly impact your mental well being.
Pulling into the driveway, I toss my keys into my purse as I get out of the car and wave to Mrs. Baker across the street. She’s such a sweet woman even though I hardly know her.
As I’m unlocking the front door, I notice some mail in the mailbox, so I grab it and toss it all on the kitchen counter before I start fixing dinner.
Despite whatever problems Drew and I might be having, I try to keep things as normal as possible. I never want him to be able to say that I’m a bad wife or that I don’t care about him, so I stick to the same routine that I developed years ago not long after we married.
Tonight for dinner, we’re having tacos. As I brown the meat up in the pan, I dice up the tomatoes, chop fresh lettuce and whip up a fresh batch of guacamole. There’s seriously nothing better than guacamole.
I read somewhere that avocados are one of the healthiest foods you can eat, which is shocking because they are so good! They’re rich in numerous vitamins, they contain essential fatty acids that benefit your heart, eyes and brain.
Personally, I love to make guacamole out of them, but I also cut them up and put them in salads and slice them for sandwiches. They’re so filling, which helps me eat less. I eat about one to two avocados per day. I’d eat more than that, but one avocado is about 160 calories because they’re loaded with fat, which helps keep you feeling full.
While I’m adding the taco seasoning to the meat, I happen to notice that Drew should be home in about 15 minutes, so I begin placing all of the taco sides on a nifty little tray that I bought at the dollar store. Even though it was only a buck, it makes our dinners look much fancier than they really are.
I fill each compartment with lettuce, tomato, cheese, sour cream, guacamole, and jalapeños while setting the bottle of taco sauce on the counter next to the tray before warming up the taco shells.
By the time the tacos are ready, Drew still isn’t home but he should be any minute, so I go ahead and start making our plates and drinks. I don’t care how long we’ve been married, I always drink iced tea with my meals, and he always has a Dr. Pepper with his.
I’m almost finished with my first taco when my phone goes off with a text. I assume it’s Drew, but I’m dead wrong. It’s my new ghost friend who I’ve started texting with, and it’s a response from my message earlier today.
M: It’s no problem. Sometimes knowing that someone cares is enough to get you through the day. Can I ask what’s wrong?
Unknown Number: Got out of a relationship that had been falling apart for years with a woman that I couldn’t talk to but it’s probably my own fault. Have you ever been in something like that? I don’t wish it on anyone.
Chills run down my spine and my food almost falls out of my mouth before I realize that it’s hanging wide open. This person was literally the exact same relationship that I’m in right now.
Swallowing my food, I take a drink of my iced tea and begin to respond when I hear the door opening. It’s Drew so I quickly put my phone away as he enters the kitchen.
“Sorry, I’m late. Slacker Gene kept taking extended breaks all day, so we were a bit behind on the job site,” he says as I set my phone in my lap. “What were you doing?”
“It’s okay, dinner’s only been ready for about fifteen minutes, and I was just checking my notifications.”
“Yeah? Anything good?” he asks, washing his hands at the kitchen sink before he sits down to eat.
“Not really,” I say.
I have no clue what my notifications look like on social media because I haven’t really checked them in days. It’s always my friends bragging about their cute kids or bitching about the drama that they have going on in their life. I don’t care to read about either.
All I need is a good book, something to drink, and maybe my DVD collection for days when I don’t feel like reading.
I never understood all the hype about having kids. Sure, babies are cute, but they’re a lot of responsibility. They’re so expensive and I don’t know how my friends do it.
I’ve been invited to several baby showers in my time, and a pack of diapers or a large can of formula is like $30. If you breastfeed, you have to buy pumps, nipple cream and storage bags. It all adds up.
It makes me wonder how my friends with kids can even afford to live or pay their bills. One of my friends pays a sitter $100 per week to watch her son while she works. That’s like making an extra car payment each month.
Personally, I’d rather keep my money and my sanity. No kids coloring on my walls, no children trashing my house, and no worries about date nights or vacations or anything. Maybe in a few years, I’ll want one because they are cute and I do want to be a mom someday but not right now.
Right now, I just want to be me and do my own thing.
We spend another silent dinner eating the rest of our tacos before I retreat to the bedroom where I text the unknown number back.
Unknown Number: Got out of a relationship that had been falling apart for years with a woman that I couldn’t talk to but it’s probably my own fault. Have you ever been in something like that? I don’t wish it on anyone.
M: Believe it or not, I’m sort of in that situation now. My husband and I seem to be drifting apart, but I don’t know how to fix it either. I’m sorry to hear that your relationship ended.
Snuggling up to Dublin, I think of brighter days when Drew and I used to be a lot happier. We always had so much fun and spent so much time together, but now we don’t even hang out in the same room, we barely talk, and it seems as though all we do is share a meal together before he heads down to the basement and I hang out in our room.
That’s not really a marriage, but I don’t want it to end just because we don’t hang out. I’d like for us to get back to the way things used to be but how do we do it? Since we barely talk, I don’t feel like I can just walk up to him and say, “Drew, our marriage sucks. Let’s work on it.”
Plugging in my tablet so it can cha
rge while I read, I open a new book that I just downloaded. This one’s an erotic psychological story about a sexy doctor who takes advantage of one of his voluptuous patients. I sure wish I had someone to take advantage of me. My husband is ’too sweet’ for that.
Drew hardly touches me anymore, so I stopped dressing all sexy when I come to bed. What’s the point? I’d wear something soft and silky or revealing and lacy to bed, but he’d just roll over and start snoring within minutes of his head hitting the pillow. Now it’s oversized t-shirts or nightgowns, and I don’t shave my legs as often as I used to because again, why bother?
Just as I get into chapter one, my phone vibrates on the nightstand. It’s another text message.
M: Believe it or not, I’m sort of in that situation now. My husband and I seem to be drifting apart, but I don’t know how to fix it either. I’m sorry to hear that your relationship ended.
Unknown Number: My failed relationship isn’t your fault. What’s your name?
Chapter 7
Drew
I can’t believe that she’s starting to talk about me already. It didn’t take long at all. I figured it’d take a lot more to get her to open up, but I guess I was wrong.
Unknown Number: It’s not your fault. What’s your name?
M: LOL What’s your name? I don’t know you. How am I supposed to know that you didn’t hack up your ex and stuff her body parts in a basement freezer?
Unknown Number: I don’t have any frozen bodies in my basement. lol My name is Robbie. What’s yours?
M: Right, like you would tell me if you had bodies in your basement. Where are you from? I Googled your number and it looks like you’re in Litchfield, Illinois. I’ve never heard of that place.
Unknown Number: Yep, that’s where I’m from. A tiny, dead end town with not much to do. I’m thinking about leaving it though and starting new. There’s nothing left here for me.
I chose Litchfield, Illinois since it’s only about an hour away from the St. Louis metro area and researched it so I’d know a few facts about it in case she asked and decided to check for herself.
That’s one thing about women—they can pick up on a lie like nobody’s business, or at least Madison can. She’s smart and she’s got some mad detective skills.
It’s funny because she doesn’t know much about our neighbors other than the husband drives a tow truck and the wife is a stay-at-home mom with their two young daughters, but she could tell you where my high school girlfriend lives, where she works, what car she drives and her current relationship status.
She could also tell you who my last ex-girlfriend is currently dating, where she shops and how many times she’s moved since we’ve broken up.
Women can be nosy when they want to be, and when it comes to my exes, Maddy is very nosy.
I find it odd, though. She’s not the jealous type which is why I don’t understand how or why she knows all that she does. I’ve never bothered to look up her exes and, frankly, I don’t care where they work or what they’re doing.
Even though we’ve got our problems, I’m trying like hell to get us back on the right track by finding out what the problem is so that I can begin working on it before I lose her.
Honestly, if Maddy and I were to ever separate, I probably would leave St. Louis and head for someplace warm like Texas where I’d be buried in work. I don’t think I could live without her. She’s my entire world and if she weren’t in it, my whole world would come crashing down.
The weather is the only bad thing about living in Missouri. When it rains and snows, we’re out of a job and there’s no work to do. It also sucks ass working in the freezing cold.
Sometimes I wish that Maddy and I lived in a warmer climate so that I cold work all year long. I’ve always firmly believed in the man pulling more than his fair share of the weight to support his family, so it bothers me when I don’t always have work.
But I try to make myself useful in other ways around the house. Like working on her car, fixing things around the house when they break, and opening jars that she’s not strong enough to open.
It might sound stupid, but I like it when she asks me to do things—with the exception of working on her car after she’s literally driven it into the ground. It makes me feel useful and needed.
Maddy and I text for the next hour and a half while I sit in the basement, drinking a beer and pretend to watch sports while she sits on our bed and pretends to read.
We talk about everything and anything as though we are strangers and I let her tell me about her job and co-workers. Funny though, I never knew that she thought her boss, Don, was hot.
Interesting.
As the night goes on, I convince her that I’m not a serial killer and have her laughing like we’re two old friends. At one point, I even heard her laugh upstairs when I made a joke about women and cars, and that’s when she started talking about me (Drew).
She told “Robbie” (the unknown phone number) that she and I have been having problems and that I often tease her about her car.
I was surprised that it didn’t take her very long to bring me up, but I used it as an opportunity to talk about our marriage.
Robbie: You’re so lucky to have a good marriage. You should hold onto that.
Maddy: Well, it’s a marriage. I wouldn’t exactly say it’s good, and thanks. I try to do what I can but I don’t know how much longer things are going to last.
I have to admit, seeing her type that made my heart drop to the pit of my stomach. I think running into a freshly sharpened knife would have hurt less.
R: Oh, my bad. You said he teases you, so I assumed things were good. What’s wrong?
M: We’re just not on the same page. I spend all of my free time reading and he spends all of his in the basement. We just don’t do anything anymore.
R: What do you mean by “don’t do anything anymore”? Like you guys don’t hang out or you don’t….do it?
M: Both, really. It feels like we’re living two separate lives under the same roof, and I think a big part of that has impacted our sex life. Well, it would have impacted our sex life—if we had one.
R: Ouch. When was the last time….you know?
M: With him? About 6 or 7 weeks ago? We’re not usually intimate together, but I got myself off last night.
R: Really? Sounds a little kinky if you ask me. How come he didn’t help you get off?
M: Yeah right. He was in his little dungeon watching Fox Sports Midwest.
I can’t believe she’s calling it my man cave. What the hell? I thought she liked it when I came down here but judging how she refers to it, I’d say that I’m probably wrong.
R: That’s sad. Maybe if you told him that you were in the mood, he would’ve come out of his man cave. I’ve never known a man who didn’t want to get his woman off.
M: Welcome to my world.
Damn, she really knows how to shit talk me. I had no idea that she masturbates. When the hell did she start doing that?
She’s right, though; we’re even further apart than I thought. It also made me wonder what else I’m missing or don’t know.
R: Why don’t you try talking to him?
M: I don’t know how. I’ve thought about it but what do you say?
R: I don’t know. Maybe wear something sexy to bed or just bring it up. Talk to him about what fantasies you have or whatever it is that you want or will make you happy. I’m sure he’ll listen or want to talk.
I would, too. I’ve been wondering what her fantasies are for a long time. When we first got married, she told me a few things but I know there’s got to be more. There just has to be.
I mean, she told me little things like she likes me to hold her wrists above her head and that she loves it when I smack her ass during sex, but that’s all she’s ever really told me.
If she’s hidden the fact that she’s masturbating from me but willing to tell a stranger, I guarantee she’ll tell “Robbie” more stuff about her than she would ever op
en up to tell me.
And I wonder why.
What else don’t I know? And what else is she willing to tell “him”?
M: No, I can’t really talk to him. The things that I like are just too dark and I don’t think he’d be into it.
What the fuck could she possibly be into that I wouldn’t be? I mean, I have my own porn subscription and she sees all the Playboy magazines coming to the house. How does she know that I’m not into some dark shit? Because I won’t be rough with her? I try to give her what she wants.
Maybe that’s why she’s never opened up to me. I’ve never really told her what I’m into either. Communication is a two-way street, but it looks like neither of us ever made it over to that block.
R: Dark, huh? What kind of stuff are you into, pretty girl?
M: You don’t know if I’m pretty. For all you know, I could have blacked out teeth, patches of missing hair and be a candidate for My 600 Pound Life. lol
R: Just a hunch that I have with the way you talk about your friends, co-worker, and husband. So, are you going to tell me about some of your fantasies?
M: Why do you care? They’re kind of silly anyway.
R: I care because I like you. A lot. You’re the most interesting person I’ve ever met, actually. And are they dark or are they silly? They can’t be both. I think you’re just afraid to tell me. Remember, I don’t bite….nor do I hack up girlfriends. lol
She doesn’t respond and almost a half an hour goes by before I realize that I’ve just spent the last three hours texting with her and that it’s getting really late. Normally, when I go upstairs around this time, she’s asleep.
It’s going to be so weird to talk to my wife—whom I seemingly know nothing about anymore—and face her, knowing the little bit that I’ve learned about her.
Figuring that she’s probably gone to bed, I grab my phone to head upstairs and get in bed for the night when it goes off with a text alert.
M: Most of my fantasies are dark, but I think a few of them are silly.