D I V O R C E (Confessions by an Ex-Pat)

D I V O R C E

 The ultimate price for being absent as an Ex-pat worker is divorce.  Many men and women leave to work in foreign countries, because the their relationship soured or money they need money badly.  In my case, I felt the macho and selfish urge to leave my wife and family and head out into the world to wander or take ‘a walk about.’  The bottom line I knew that my life as I knew it was ending and the path I chose was one that would never return me to my Carolina home.  

Miraculously my wife and I stayed together for nine long years of me flitting about the globe.  She stayed by my side waiting as we lost a whole decade of togetherness:  Years of not walking the dogs together, cooking on the patio, piddling around the house doing honey do’s, or enjoying family time with our son.  What selfishness brought me to leave the safety and security of this middle class life?

Fact is that I did leave, and now I am at the end of my rope.  My wife filed the divorce separations papers, surprise, surprise.  I am now looking at life for the first time in a whole different status.  I no longer have a safety net or a home to return to.  I am out here totally alone and on my own.  

 I don’t even consider the pain and suffering that my wife went through to get to this point.  I am all about self.  I am alone.  I am broke, in more ways than one.  I am not happy, even miserable.  I fucked up.   I gave away everything that ever mattered to me.  Why did I do this to the ones that I love?  The ex-pat life style is totally and utterly about self and therefore inane and insane.

 The problem is most ex-pats are people persons, and leaving family and love ones creates a void.  Strangers who come into the ex-pat’s life fill the emptiness created by departure from one’s previous life.  The family becomes an email or a phone call that lasts maybe one hour out of the day.  The other twenty-three hours are filled with other people in the ex-pat’s present company.

 I brought other people into my wife’s and my life.  These other people didn’t care about where my family relationship ended up.  The others are into their own selfish existence, and have their own agenda.  They assess the weakness that loneliness bears upon the ex-pat.  Hell, they are lonely too!  I batted my eyelashes like I was a bachelor, at the lovely lonely strangers as if I was a bachelor.  I used the excuse that I was a geographic bachelor.  That is just a selfish excuse to do what and with whom I please.  

 Satisfying my sexual pleasure is my greatest selfish act.  I thought that I could separate this male need from the reality of the pain that it would eventually cause.  I thought that I could manage two, sometimes three, relationships simultaneously.  The problem is that entering another human being caused me to become part of their family.  Once, that happened their lives and happiness became entangled in my own.  I intertwined their needs and my family’s security together.  I was in a sense a bigamist by supporting two or more families simultaneously.   

 The deeper I established a relationship with these other women, the further I got away from my home.  The path of return disappeared as I moved past the point of no return.  Some refer to it as being out in La La land.  Actually it was just reality slapping me in the face, because there is no way to maintain more than one "wife" for any given length of time.

 I went with the flow for as long as I could, in my passive aggressive way; and let the river of adultery wash away my sanity.  I swam in these rapids of passion; and watched the shore of goodness and fidelity swiftly pass me by.  The safety and security of my well know beach and home dock, became a distant memory.  I now fought for survival in a real sense as I sucked out into an unknown sea.  

 My wife threw me a safety line from the banks.  The rope was connected to the longest reel I ever could have imagined.  Instead of pulling hand over hand until I could reach a limb or the bow of my family tree, I just floated away.  I watched it happen and did not try to return or save my self or my relationship with my wife.  The line broke.

 My wife was always on the Internet and on the phone letting me know that she was there waiting.  She was at home taking care of the bills, dogs, my son, and all the other normal day-to-day mundane tasks, while I just spun out of control.  She was there always, until one year the cord started to frazzle.  The threads of the hemp broke one by one, still she held on to me, until it snapped.  The rope really didn’t break.  I cut it!

 Establishing relationships in several countries, and trying to conceal those relations all caught up with me in one apex of time, while living in Sofia, Bulgaria.   My girl friend in Bulgaria found out that she was pregnant.  A cruel twist of fate came, because my family was visiting when she called me insistently with the news.  The constant phone calls made my wife suspicious.  
 My pregnant girl friend demanded that I come to a local pub and meet her, so that she could tell me the news in person.  She called so many times, that finally I made some excuse and left my wife, son, and nephew in my apartment and went to meet my girl and a clandestine location.  My wife followed and saw us together.  All hell broke loose.

 During the same week, my other girl friend in Nigeria decides to call my wife, and use the trump card she had always threatened to play if I stopped sending her money.  She told my wife that I had a daughter in Nigeria, which is a lie, but still it was extremely effective especially with what was happening in Bulgaria.  

 Both events came into play on the same week, as my family visited me in Bulgaria.  These two events were the culmination point of my tragedy.  There was no way for my wife to forgive me, or reconcile because the crime was too hideous.  My life fragmented and the end came to twenty-eight years of marriage all at once.  I looked at the orthodox Jesus on my wall, and hung my head in shame.  I came to the realization that I am evil.

 My wife waged a yearlong psychological torture session, as she her self entered the quagmire of pain.  The other women threaten her self-esteem because of their youth.  I demeaned my wife with hurtful words, trying to turn around the blame to some past event.  What pain we endured.  

 I realized that I am a succubus.  I lure in women with sexual desire and false hope, without the intention of nurturing any relationship into a good wholesome outcome.  I use women, even though some sure as hell turned the tables and abused me.   Now I am shocked by my condition and status in life, only because I was caught with my pants down.

 How and why, did I destroy myself  so utterly?  I thought with my little head, which is how.   My cock got me in trouble.  The build up of semen was my excuse for going and sticking ‘It’ in something.  This sounds macho and really cool, but the reality it is hell.  Man is supposed to separate himself from the animals, and control his desire.  I sure as hell couldn’t control my self or my selfish needs.

 “This is the end, my …….friend the end.  This is the End, my only friend, the end, of our elaborate plans, the end.  Of every thing that stands, the end.  No safety or surprise, the end.  I will never look into your eyes again.  Can you picture what will be, so and free.  Desperately in need of a stranger’s hand in a desperate land. Lost in a romance wilderness of pain.  And all of the children are insane.  All the children are insane, waiting for the summer rain.”  Jim Morrison says some excellent words in the song The End that fit my demise.


 I ended my marriage, because my whole marriage has been one of infidelity.  I lost my friend, partner, wife and family.  The ultimate end in life has come to me.  There is only one thing worse that this and it is death.  It hurts so badly, worse than an actual death.  So many tears have been shed.  My heart felt like it was going to explode in my chest.  Listening to my wife’s pain on the other end of the phone, I know that she died inside.  

The Infidel’s Forty-nine Women, I am not getting religious here just a passion play of words.

 I have probably missed a few, but I counted an absurd number of cheating acts, since my lovely wife and I got engaged, in the spring of 1978.  There has to be something wrong with me.  I am the whore that my wife claims, after all she knows me better than anyone.  My wife stayed with me for 28 years of my lying, cheating, and despicable acts.

 My wife, Nancy, dated my college roommate, Hal, in the spring of 1978.  We were attending the University of Tennessee at the time, rapidly approaching the summer.  She called the apartment one weekend to speak to Hal, and I answered.  I told her Hal was in Cleveland, Tennessee, at his parent’s house.  Nancy and Hal weren’t that serious, and only went out a couple of times, so I asked if Nancy wanted to go to the movie, and to my surprise she agreed.

 We went to see the movie ‘The Band,’ and I talked through the entire movie.  We came back to the apartment, and I played my guitar, she was not impressed.  I kissed on her a little, and she fended off all of my other advances.  I walked her to her car a very frustrated young man.

 I had just joined the Army, even though I was in good standing at UT.  My family and friends thought I was nuts.  I was close to my induction date and had to drive my stuff to Mobile, Alabama and store it at my parents.  I asked Nancy, to accompany me on that trip.  She said that she wanted to come, but I had to ask her parents.

 I walked my long hair self up the steps of her parents house, introduced my self over dinner.  I told them about where I was from, and how beautiful it was on the water down on the Mobile Bay.  I gave her mother, Edna, my mother’s phone number, so they could chat and make a final decision.  They agreed that it was ok for us to go.

 We left for Mobile in June, 1978, in my brother’s Ford old Econoline van.  We made it just below Chattanooga, not quite two hundred miles from our departure site of Knoxville, when we began to have seriously engine troubles.  Right when we crossed the Alabama State line, the van coughed, sputtered and died.

 We drifted into a gas station at some obscure exit, and coasted into some ‘good old boy’s’ world.  He told us that the engine would have to be totally rebuilt, and we would have to leave the van.  We barely had enough gas money to get to Mobile, so we asked if there wasn’t a way to keep us going down the road?  The Alabama fellow had pity on us, and agreed to cut the piston, and then weld it into the engine block.  

 We started moving again, but used as much oil as we did gasoline.  We limped about another hundred miles to an old road that skirted Birmingham, Alabama.  There in some small-unknown town, the Van died and we coasted into a movie theater parking lot.  I called my parents, whom agreed to come and rescue us.  My dad and brother showed up early the next morning. 

 My kinfolk arrived and tied a towrope to the van.  I was tired after standing guard all night, while sweet innocent Nancy slept in the back of the van.  We drank coffee and talked as my dad towed us down I 65, through Montgomery and on to Mobile and the Greater Gulf Coast.

 My father ran the Spring Hill College Golf Course, so we stored the van near the cart shed.  My mother was waiting in her sporty Buick Sky Lark, with Pierre, her miniature poodle in her lap.  Nancy and I loaded in her car and drove the wonderful thirty miles from the golf club my family home on Mobile Bay.

 Nancy fell in love with Mobile Bay, the Gulf Coast living and me.  I also fell in love with her.  We attended a party in our honor.  Our old dear life long friends coaxed us to make the plunge into marriage.  We sneaked out of the party and made love in my mother’s guest bedroom.  Nancy cried and I held her feeling guilt about our sex.  She has been crying ever since and I can’t blame her.

We returned to Knoxville, and I had only a couple of days until my induction.  I kissed Nancy good-bye, and she went on home, but not until we told Hal and the rest of the floor of my apartment building that we were engaged to be married.  Living across the hall from me was Barbara, a big-breasted Italian woman, who couldn’t believe what she was hearing.  

 My first infidelity occurred on the night of our engagement announcement.  I was leaving the next day for the Army and Barbara wanted to tell me good-bye.  I told her good bye in a very special way, down between her legs with her grasping my ears.  We made love many times, until almost daylight.  She could not believe that I agreed to be married.  

 I was twenty-one and in the Army.  I had 30 seconds to get off of the Bus, when I arrived at Ft. Gordon, GA, and 29 seconds were gone.  We scrambled off of the bus, and met our drill sergeants.  It was hotter than the hinges of hell down in Disgusta, Georgia.  I am sorry, Augusta, Georgia.   I was a PFC in the Signal, CORPS, gaining the skills needed for my future Ex-pat life.  

  Nancy wrote me everyday and sent cookies, brownies, and lots of sweet letters.  The drill sergeant made me open my cookies and pass them out to the rest of the platoon.  Nancy was a hit with my fellow soldiers.  Her perfumed letters were a godsend.  She loved me and I loved her.  The six weeks of basic training went by quickly, and then I started my advanced individual training, at the exact same post and in the same unit.  We were allowed a little more freedom and weekend furloughs.

 One weekend pass later, I notched in my belt my second cheating experience.  It happened when some soldier buddies and I ended up at some Georgia Bimbo’s apartment.  I took some unknown woman, by parting her panties and entering her on a spongy hassock.  I lasted all of thirty seconds; slam bam and thank you Ma’am.

 Nancy and I were married on October 14th, 1978.  I traveled from my unit at Ft. Gordon, to my wife’s wedding arrangements.  Our rehearsal dinner was at a church that was converted into a theatre.  My brother organized the catered Bohemiam meal of falafel and spicy Lebanese food.  My shocked future conservative in-laws ate their falafels, but only because they had too.  My old neighbor and lover Barbara showed up at the rehearsal dinner and drove around the theater screaming, “I love you Terry!”

Though years later she told me she did not do that, but that is another story.

 I was married the next day at St. Paul’s United Methodist Church.  The preacher talked about the four legs of the racehorse, but I can’t remember exactly what the four legs were.  Our preacher privately told us about marriage having four legs: sexual fidelity, financial care, love and family, something like that.  In these 28 years, I haven’t adhered to any of what that preacher told us.  I should have listened instead of blowing off his advice.  Oh and at our ceremony Barbara came shaking our hands, and wishing us well, rubbing my infidelity in my face.  I never saw her again, until after my divorce 30 years hence.

 In December, I went to my first duty station in Bad, Kissingen, and Federal Republic of Germany.  I was assigned to HHB 2/41st FA.  I got a place off post, in the basement of papa Phefferman’s house, in the village of Nudligen.  Nancy joined me about three months later, after I established our home, my self at work and my position in an acting troop for extra curricular activity.  She fell right into this eclectic group of people, since she is a great actress her own self.

 We were both veterans of the stage.  We studied theater at UT, and were warmly welcomed as an asset by the Community Acting Troupe of Schweinfurt or CATS.  My first role with CATS was as Buddy in ‘Come Blow Your Horn,’ and Nancy jumped right in practicing a disco dance routine with Robert.  What goes around comes around in this world, and I got mine a couple of months after joining CATS. 

  I worked twelve-hour shifts in a secret communications facility for the post.  I sent and received messages about communist troop movements across Eastern Europe.  Some times I pulled shifts in the daytime and some during the nights.  Actually the schedule was two days on, two days off, two nights on, and two nights off.  I wasn’t allowed to leave the facility during the twelve hours I worked.  Well one weekend I broke this rule.

 I was working on a slow Saturday, so I decided to close the vault and head home for a surprise lunch.  I got a surprise all right, because I saw my wife and Robert through the kitchen window.  Nancy was dressed in a silky nightgown, and Robert a little too close to my wife in my apartment when I was supposed to be at work.  Although he was fully dressed, the scene was far from innocent.  They were cooking something at the stove, and I went a wee bit crazy and extremely jealous.  I didn’t approach them, just watched them through the window.  I went back to work with a sick feeling in my stomach.

 I used this event as a reason and my excuse for future infidelity.  I didn’t do anything in Germany, but I always had the memory of them to use as an ace in the hole.  I could cheat and not let if affect my conscience, because my wife had a man first.  It wasn’t until a year later that I used this situation to have sex with women.  

 I was promoted to Sergeant in Germany, and then shortly after received orders for Ft. Bragg, NC.  Nancy was pregnant, so she flew on a couple of months ahead of me.  I partied pretty hard during those several months of living in Germany on my own.  I was at a beer fest during this period and had my picture made with a big-breasted German Fraulein.  Later in the States, Nancy accused me of having an affair with this woman.  Sorry, but I was a good boy, and “didn’t have sexual relations with that woman.”  I did have sex with two other gals while stationed at Ft. Bragg.

 I was in charge of quarters one night at the barracks of A Co, 50th Signal Battalion, and ‘Airborne!’  It was a Saturday night and all of the soldiers started rolling in from a night of partying in Fayetteville.  This hot young Specialist from Texas came in and stopped at the duty desk before going down the hall to bed.  She was a dark eyed cutie with curly hair, which had sort of a Middle Eastern look to her.  She was an intoxicating woman smelling, of alcohol, perfume and smoke. 

She got real close and said; “Take me to Texas Sergeant Brown.”

 I took her by her hand and led her outside.  I said that I sure would take her to Texas, no problem.  There was a general-purpose tent set up and airing out from the recent field exercise.  We went inside.  We passionately kissed and the next thing I remember I entered her as she lay on a tent cover.  It was hot and passionate, but it was never to happen again.

 We worked the next two years together, but never had any more contact.  She became a buddy, and a fellow soldier.  We were both airborne and jumped out of the same planes, but never did we have any more physical contact.  Until the day I left Ft. Bragg we kept our hands off of each other.

 I can’t say that about the moving company gal that came to pack up my house hold goods when I ended my term of service.  She was a tiny thing and not that cute.  She couldn’t have been over 4’10”, but she was a wild ass girl from North Carolina.  She flirted with me as they packed up the house.  I told her to return that evening for a drink.

 The little moving company girl was what I refer to as a spinner.  I walked around my empty government house with her sitting on my cock.  We just had dirty raunchy sex.  I did her from behind, against the wall and all over that house.  She left to move on to her next conquest, and I have never seen her again.  I can’t even remember her name.  

 It was ok; I played the Robert card on both of these lovers.  Nancy fooled around in Germany, and it was all right for me to do so any time I pleased.  The problem is with intimacy between man and wife, after an act of infidelity.  I became so distant and cold, and my wife felt it.

 I ended my first term of service and our little family moved back to Knoxville, TN.  The problem was that Nancy’s old boyfriend Mark also lived in Knoxville, TN.   Nancy and Mark met again and quickly picked up where they left off.  I guess they had some unfinished business.  The distance of our relationship formed a perfect situation for these two lovers to reunite.   My life became a living hell.

 He was a body builder and a rough criminal type.  He was constantly in the trouble with the law.  This intrigued Nancy and they were together constantly.  I was oblivious to this relationship, because I was so neglectful of my own relationship with my wife.  Nancy and Mark went at it hard and passionately, and they were together all of the time.  So, I filled my life with other women and strangers.  

I went back to school at UT, and joined the ROTC, so that I could reenter the Army as a commissioned officer.  I also had a job with Combined Insurance Company of America, which allowed me to go out and make money after class.  As if that wasn’t enough time away from home, I also accepted a leading part in a production of Tea House of the August Moon.  All of these activities left no time for my lovely wife Nancy.  She filled her lonely moments with Mark.

 When I found out about their love affair, I confronted her and Mark after their daily work out at the gym.  I tried to borrow my bosses 357 Magnum, but luckily he didn’t give it to me.  I slid my car, an old Valiant, with my young son in his baby seat, up to them as they came into the parking lot.  I flew up to Mark’s face, and threatened the big man.  

 He told me that the only reason that he didn’t kill me was because I was right.  Was I right?  I was unfaithful four times, and deserved everything that he and she were doing.  Nancy should have left me for Mark right then and there.  She could be happily married to him today, instead of divorcing my ass twenty-four years later. 

 If you think I played the Robert trump card well, Mark gave me Cart Blanche.   There was this nymph-o-maniac in the play, that I mentioned earlier.  It was at the Bijou Theater, Knoxville, TN.  In ‘The Tea House of the August Moon’  I played the captain that looks for bugs and flowers.  The nymph woman was there every night, praising my performance.  She made advances that I didn’t resist.

 I took this wild married woman, who had an insatiable sexual appetite into the park.  I led her into the woods and ravaged her by the azaleas and shrubs, in clear view of the path.  I had sex with her every time she invited me to her house to tutor me in college English.  I took her in her basement as she washed clothes, and held the door to the laundry;  so her toddler couldn’t get inside the room.  We stopped the car once and did it on the way home from some hoity toity party.  We fucked in my front lawn, and in her car when she could only come by for a minute.  When I couldn’t get out and about, she would drive up in front of my house and we would go at it in the front seat.  We really used each other, and I felt justified.

 There was another hot ass housewife, that couldn’t get enough of me.  I also took her at her house in her laundry room.   She was a tall woman, 5’7”, and had the prettiest breast that I have ever seen.  She was a looker and wore expensive outfits and perfume.  We fucked everywhere, in motels, and once in the car at the drive-in movie.  She was hot.

 One time she came to our apartment, by this time we were living at married student apartments.  I quickly put my son down for a nap, returned to her on the couch.  She got down on her knees as I sat there watching her unzip me and take my throbbing member into her mouth.  She sucked me until I exploded with the most memorable orgasm.  She looked up slowly afterwards her eyes locking with mine and said, “I didn’t miss a drop.”

invited to do what ever we wanted to her. We took our time by first slurping down some oysters from Mobile and having a drink. She sucked my brother, as I slammed her from behind. We switched up, I put my cock in her mouth and I blew my load, helping her to wash down the slimy shellfish. I don't wish to offend you readers, so I apologize for getting carried away.

 One day I was selling insurance up in Cocke County and I had a sales call at a motel.  Turned out that the motel was a house of ill repute, and the policy owner  was a whore, who traded me sexual pleasure for the policy premium.  She took me into a back room, we took showers, and then she checked my parts out for disease.  She then spanked it, and let me take her missionary style.  

 Combined Insurance Company of America had this system of Positive Mental Attitude (PMA).  So every now and again the leadership would get the entire region at some nice hotel and ring bells and praise the sales leaders.  We were in Nashville at the Opryland Hotel, and I ran into an old girl friend of mine named Vicky.  

 Vicky and I dated for about a year before my marriage, and we never had sex.  She was young, and a good girl.  Well... in Nashville we had some unfinished business to attend too.  We were at the insurance party kissing in the hallway, and then she backed off and slapped me in the face.  Before I could get confused she was all over me again.  She asked me to take her home.  Once in her bed, we made romantic love, with candles and the whole bit.  I left early to get back to the closing remarks of the convention.

 I was sitting and listening to how we need to make more sales calls, when a huge bouquet of roses arrived, for me!  My sales manager leaned over to me and said, “you must of done good.” 

More to follow........