Ryan and I have fetishes. He told me last night that his fetish was sex and that my fetish was food. And it’s true – I love a good meal, always choosing leftovers over fast food. It doesn’t turn me on to gamble with food I pick up through the drive through window. I have too many fast food horror stories, e.g. finding a wasp in my tomato slice (thank you, McDonald’s) and a wadded up napkin in my milkshake (fuck you, Steak n’ Shake). I hate fast food. I wish it would die.
Four days ago he told me that he appreciated me and everything I do for him. This wasn’t a new thing for him to say or for me to hear. I know he appreciates me because he tells me everyday. And he knows that I know because he makes sure I know. This is how Our Circle works – constant reminders to each other, ongoing, never stopping. So, what other way to show his appreciation for me than to promise to cook for me every day? How could I turn that down?! He’s kept his promise to grill for me every Friday for the past 4 years. Every Friday for 4 years has been so much better because I looked forward to his steaks, to spending time with him, and to be spoiled with his kindness and appreciation. I was never a big steak eater, but because he was cooking for me, I found myself becoming a steak connoisseur once a week.
During work at about 2 P.M. I got a text message from Venice saying she had a bad headache and she was headed to the store to buy some Ibuprofen. It’s allergy season so I figured it was no big deal. At about 5:30 P.M. I see her car pull up to my office and she gets out and switches seats. I call her on her cell and ask what is going on. She tells me she is tired and needs me to drive her home. She felt guilty because she knew I wasn’t off yet and offered to sleep in the car until I was off work. Of course I immediately close down and go outside to see what is wrong with her. She asked if I could leave my car at work and drive her home. She can’t seem to stay awake. I agree, but ask if I need to take her to the hospital. Something just wasn’t right.
When Ryan and I first started dating, I told him that if he ever cheated on me, I would leave him. I loved him hard and I loved him and only him. I was clingy (I mean super clingy), jealous, and loved his attention, and in return, he would get someone who would do anything for him. Back then, I had a very no-nonsense attitude about relationships and my opinion about cheating was very black and white. If you have sex another, girl – definitely cheating. If you kiss another girl, even drunkenly at a party – still cheating. I mean, if you put yourself in a situation where there’s alcohol and you have the opportunity to kiss someone else, that’s just not very smart. And if you even talk to another girl – yes, still cheating. There was no in between, semi-cheating, “I-cheated-but-it-didn’t-mean-anything-to-me” – I must not mean anything to you if you decide to any of the above-mentioned to me. Simple as that.
How can anyone be guilty from having a spouse that is so giving?
Years ago, when Venice and I were still dating, we explored each other’s bodies daily. I had never really touched my body, my testicles, and as I already mentioned in a previous article, I 
The doctor, an Asian lady that resembled Lucy Liu, asked if she was interrupting something. Like two shamed school kids, we both looked down and shook our heads no. She then asked me what my reasons were for coming in that day. I explained to her that we found a lump in my testicles and wanted to know if I was dying. She asked me to stand up and remove my pants so she could have a look.
Not to be a pervert, but I can see why Seargent Tucker seemed to be having so many penis problems himself. This doctor was adorable. I started counting sheep in my head trying not to think about anything sexual. I was extremely embarrassed about exposing myself to a doctor, as the only person that had ever seen me nude was Venice, but I guess you can say I have this thing for Asian women. Doctor or no doctor, I said a small prayer asking the Lord to please help me control my penis so it does not make any sudden movements. I pulled my pants down and watched the doctor eyeball my penis and testicles. She fondled me for a few moments and couldn’t find the lump. I asked if I could show her where, and she nodded. I put my finger on the area of the lump and she placed her hand where I was pointing. She confirmed she also felt a lump and asked me to lay down. I still had my pants halfway down to my knees and wobbled my way to the patient table. I looked over to Venice, who was making her tongue poke out the side of her cheek inside her mouth, to suggest a blow job, and gave her a dirty look. As I laid there naked, exposed to the doctor who was fondling my balls, with my girlfriend watching, I wanted to disappear from earth. I hated every second of it. I really felt even more stupid when I found out there was nothing wrong with my testicles and it was merely a bent vein in my sac that hardens (when my testicles are not fully sagging) when I stand up.