my tale of woe
This tale of human misery is, to my eternal shame, all true & untold to random internet persons until this moment. Enjoy. I know I didn't.

The magic was gone when I unexpectedly reacquainted my then wife's boss with his dentist when I punched him (her boss, not the dentist) squarely in the gob. Shortly followed by telling my boss to stick his job up his arse.

I'd explain it all its gruesome detail, but you get the gist, the age old story of a man & wife working for a pharma company in Cambridge & the man finds out his wife & her boss had been shagging on the company dime. In various locations. One of which being his desk at work. When his boss knew what was going on but said or did nothing. As did his colleagues. For, ooh, I don't know, the last year or so lets say.

I suppose in hindsight I had a vague sense of unease that something was not right, I put it down to the shitty coffee they served at work. I had no idea what was waiting for me round the corner, ready to bludgeon me to an emotional pulp & then having its solicitor remove my wallet from my jacket pocket via my anus.

We tried to patch things up, a fools errand but the marriage was like the proverbial Monty Python parrot, & we divorced almost three years ago after many fun filled adventures with such wonderful people as marriage guidance, the CSA & an especially nice bunch of cadaverous leeches known as 'her solicitors'

Given the amount of money she got, you'd have thought it would have been worth a get well card when I was in hospital not so long back, with my head strapped to a particle accelerator. Obviously not.

I tried dating for a while after the divorce but made a right mess of it, firstly having not dated since 1985, secondly because I was pretty crap at it in 1985 anyway & thirdly pretending I was alright when I was anything but (sorry Tamara. I should have stayed home the night we met)

Today? I work during the week in Paris now, the city of love. My arse. I break out in a cold sweat when I try to chat up women & my sex life is reduced to rubbing one out when the couple in the flat above me are banging away louder than a barn door in a gale. Or at least I was until last week, when I found out I'd been masturbating to the frenzied lovemaking of two gay frenchmen.

Still, I've got a sense of humour about it now. Its just about visible with a microscope. I ate my lunch on that desk for christ sake.

Length? At least two feet by the sounds of it.
(juan_slunglow popped his b3ta cherry on, Sun 24 Oct 2010, 1:41, 5 replies)

savage
but written humourously. the gay frenchmen killed me.
(UppityDamnPrimate LET'S OPEN THIS F*CKING PIT UP, Sun 24 Oct 2010, 2:50, closed)

Best off without her I say..even if you have to resort to cracking one off for gay frenchmen, or indeed getting your own back door smashed in has got to be better than living with her..
:D
(TheRiddler Hmmmmm... I concur., Sun 24 Oct 2010, 8:50, closed)

people are cunts

(ratthingbazzterd, Sun 24 Oct 2010, 23:57, closed)

Poor Slunglow.
That is indeed a tale of woe. Is there any cathartic act of revenge you could carry out?

Also, and I have no data other than personal experience and the hearsay of friends to back this up, sex (possibly leading to lurve, if that is indeed what you seek) is far easier to come by in the non-latin parts of Europe. Perhaps ditch Paris in favour of Amsterdam or Berlin...
(Happybara The jungle came alive and took him, Mon 25 Oct 2010, 10:26, closed)

Hamburg is better.........apparently

(bROKEN aRROW PUA HVI Master, Tue 26 Oct 2010, 16:22, closed)