Hold Your Judgment

"Excuse me, I’m speaking," Sheila responded with a controlled and calculated voice. There was no need to act otherwise. She continued: Unlike you, I was loyal to you throughout our marriage. The little fun I had in your presence was with your approval. You’ve cheated on me multiple times which you always considered forgivable and irrelevant because you were away overseas during your military service. You blamed your infidelities to alcohol during happy hours, military service and whatever else you could come up with. I deliberately and painfully ignored many of your affairs especially with my hairdresser-babysitter under my nose, in our bed, and twice in the closet in my daughter’s room. My daughter told me about it when she saw the babysitter-whore fucking you. Your actions traumatized the poor child for years. Till this day, you blamed it on everything, including weather, your allergy to dish washing powder, high gas prices, and Obama’s Presidency. I knew about your one night stand with my secretary. You sure destroyed her marriage. Congratulations! I knew about your vacation in New Orleans with Caroline, our son’s god mother. I was told you paid her to keep quiet. I also saw all her rent charges on your capital one credit card. I have a copy of our credit report right here. You are so weak to the extent that you can’t hunt for your own preys except those associated with me. I have accepted your other son who is still with his mother in Chantan, South Korea, as I had accepted the rest of your infidelity, mental abuse, and reckless behavior. Now you know the reason your own children were not close to you. They never saw you as a father who cared or loved them…You embarrassed them with every turn you made. Samson, when was the last time you touched me the way I wanted it? Samson, when was the last time you ate my pussy as you used to do before and when we first got married? Samson, when was the last time you gave me a bath as you did when you were courting and chasing me? Samson, when was the last time you even made me reached orgasm? Samson, when was the last time you talk nasty to me during "Your so called making love" even when I begged you to? Samson, when was the last time you allowed me to ride your face when I told you it makes me each orgasm faster? Samson, when was the last time you used on me those sex lotions I bought for us when you knew they made me feel better during sex? Samson, when was the last time you used my dildos on me even when I asked you to? Samson, I’m not an idiot. I read your messages on your Facebook page to and from Carlene who appears to be your daughter’s age. I always thought you could do better. I now stand corrected. You and Woody Allen were probably cousins. You stopped satisfying me a long time ago, Mr. Samson. I accepted your emotional abuse as my destiny, for the sake of our two lovely children. I never regretted giving birth to them but I regretted being their mother. I did my best to convince myself that I can be heterosexual with your prayers and all… I know I’m by no means perfect in this marriage. However, I have sacrificed a lot for you and your career. I have moved so many times all over the world for you while I put my own dreams and goals on ice. I specifically remembered the time we visited Hedonism II in Jamaica on your birthday as you wanted, but you refused to allow anyone to touch me even after I expressed my desires. You deprived me of anything I asked for. The least you could’ve done was respect me and let me smell or taste a little pussy. You never allowed me even a little satisfaction, a little freedom, a little consideration, or just to have a taste of my inner desires. All you have done to me successfully was control me during this one-sided marriage. You’ve controlled me as much as you would a two-year old. I’ve lived with you in fear and in bondage all these years. Sexual bandage, that is. I’ve had enough, Samson. Today, I’m liberated. I coped with your arrogant cheap-beer-drinking ghetto-bitch sister, Maureen, and your dysfunctional family in the name of peace and family. I’ve to pretend all was ok even when I caught Maureen fucking your fifteen-year old nephew in our son’s bed last summer during your family reunion. You then had the guts to scold her husband for sleeping with Maureen’s twin sister. You knew both acts to be sickening but yet you scolded only your brother in-law for his iniquities. Hypocrite! I hope you told your brother-in-law to perform DNA test to ascertain the father of your twin sister’s last son. Everyone was talking behind his back of the child’s remembrance to him. No child should be raised without knowing his father’s true identity. You had made enough fool of me, Samson. "But…," Samson was about to speak when Sheila spoke over him and continued: I accommodated your so called ‘buddies’ especially your neurotic, ugly, stinking, and pot smoking friend, Jacob, who had always wanted to jump my bones each time he came over here. He attacked me in our bed with his two inch, "Quick release" dick program in one of your Sunday night football parties. He ejaculated before I could threaten to cut his weenie off with my sewing scissors. I can still smell his cheap cologne each time I think of his stinking ass. The only comment from you when I told you about the sad, sorry, and disrespectful encounter was that he was drunk, as such; his actions were forgivable since he saved your life in South Korea during a club fight with the locals. Did he ever tell you, he gave me fifty four dollars and forty three cents on my birthday so that he could fuck my tits and lick my pussy? What a loser. By the way, he bought me that lingerie I wore for you on your last birthday. He told me it costs him two-week paycheck. Had his sorry ass caught up with his child support payments to his second wife yet? Obviously, you did not know of an African proverb that said, "When your friend gives your wife an expensive present, it’s time to get suspicious." I had to stop attending your Pastor’s prayer session when all he did was stared at my chest and constantly asked me to meet him for a drink at his Lodge during happy hours so that, and I quote, "You would’ve enough time Sheila to get home before brother Samson gets home." He once told me, and I quote him again, "If I fucked you and pray for your soul, you’ll never think of another pussy again." When I told you about his harassments, all you said was, "You’re hallucinating, Sheila. Pastor Covernor, III was a good family man.” Good family man, my ass. Samson, knowing all you know now, you seem to be the one hallucinating. As of this afternoon, I was free. I’m going to do me now. I’m going to make sure I get what I want. But this afternoon, you wanted to derail that prospect for me. Not anymore. Not ever, Mr. Theodore Samson. Do not get me wrong, all was not bad between us, but so far, according to my record, my bad experiences in this marriage outweighed the good. And finally, it’s now clear to me today why you hated Patricia so much. According to her, you guys dated in high school before you joined the air force. You hid that fact from me, Samson. In a way, you and I will still be connected since the Pat you left behind, will be mine alone soon. You miscalculated big time. I plan to possess what you used to have. For your information, she has now aged nicely like Californian 1971 vintage wine. I’m going to have her if she would have me. "My leftover and still a b****," Samson replied. Sheila cut him off once again and said, “But she is ripe, seasoned, and all grown up now.” She took a drink of water and continued: Samson, like I said, I’m done. We’re done as a couple. Tomorrow, I’ll discuss with my lawyer to go ahead and file for separation. Here is a draft for your record. In it, I’ve asked