Man Enough

(Note that comments are more than welcome. You can comment on this story or send me an email via the link below. As usual, bricks and bouquets are welcome.)

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CHRISTOPHER'S SIDE

Most people realize that major events shape one's lives. A few accept the smaller ones have the same impact. It happened to me - the smallest, brought about the biggest change. My story.

Though I am in my late thirties now (36 actually), my wife Rachael and I met during the first year of our respective jobs. We hit off well and went steady for about 2 years. I found Rachael possessing all the qualities in a woman I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. Beautiful, wholesome and in love with me. We lived in my house for another year together. And I found her to be the perfect homemaker.

With Rachael around, I always had a clean house, wholesome food and no headaches, if you know what I mean. Rachael kept her hair long, loved ABBA, peppermints and me. And not in that order. Long story short, we married after that. Ten years down-the-line and one son later, we are in a phase where you no longer have to speak to understand what the other is thinking. My boy is the apple of my eye.

You should see him fight with me for everything. From the remote control to the PS2 to who gets to sit on the front seat with me when I drive for our annual cross-country vacations. But our pride knows no bounds when we find him sleeping in his little bed at night, at peace, looking like an innocent angel.

Every alternate years Rachael and me, attend reunions. Whether it's the reunions from her high school, college or even ones from her advanced education. Rachael never attends the reunions unless I go with her. I love to escort her, to be honest, and her reunions generally consists of meeting good, decent people.

I meet many of her friends there. I can recognize most of them in her scrapbooks, albums, digital pics and whatnots.

While each one has their personality and their own quirks, all of them come across as decent, well-settled and sometimes, successful. Often, we'd come across some man or woman whom Rachael would know. They'd tentatively introduce themselves and shriek when they knew each other. They'd exchange a few pleasantries, trade up on war stories and then move on to the next one, promising to keep in touch after the party.

All of Rachael's friends had spouses. A few even brought their kids along, but they were always the first to leave. But that, I presume, is natural. I know when my son was small enough not to be left with a baby-sitter. He had accompanied us on a couple of these reunions, but was asleep before the party even began. At his age, then, 8:30pm was his 'sleepy-sleepy' time.

To all who wondered why Rachael and myself never went to reunions from my end, it was really quite simple ---- I had no formal education to speak of.

I had a hard childhood and teenage. After learning to read and write, presumably in the first couple of grades, enough to pull on in life, my parents passed away. So I was the only one left to take care of my family of 2 sisters and a brother. All younger to me. I decided against education (Yes, there were night schools. But I was still not mature enough -- or well to do enough -- to take advantage of that aspect) and went to work instead. But since I had no education, I could not get a proper white collar job. And I had to bring my family up working in the construction business. About the only guys who were concerned how much I could handle physically, rather than mentally.

I laid bricks, cemented broken walls, mended asphalt on highways, tarred trails, worked in the sun and passed teenage and most of my twenties doing nothing but making sure my brothers and sisters got the best. Whatever best I could on my meagre salary, that is.

However, life never disappointed me. Perhaps in an effort to even the scales, life gave me something best that a man could hope for. Love. And respect. From all my sisters and my brother. No brother or sister of mine took any major decision without first consulting me. And while that meant nothing, and I knew that would change when they would grow up or when they would get someone more important in their lives than their eldest brother, and that they sometimes went against my advice, it still swelled my heart to see them give me enough respect and love by asking for my opinion.

When they started earning and could stand on their own feet, they began supporting me financially. I'm proud to say that all three were stubborn enough that they refused my offer of not accepting their financial help.

So there I was, in my early thirties, having no work, getting money in my account from all my sisters and my brother. That is when I decided to continue the education I had missed. It felt awkward, I had to admit, attending again. And right away I felt out of place. And age.

But I got my Bachelors in Liberal Arts and decided to work for the first guy who would hire me. Not that I needed the money, but you can only sit so long in the house doing nothing, growing fat on the income of your siblings.

That is when I had first met Rachael. And the rest, as they say, is history.

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So here we were, sitting on the table accommodating twelve, with lots of Rachael's friends and their spouses. And a godawful lot of noise, boisterous banter and chaos everywhere. Seated next to me was Rachael and her best friend, Bethany. Both are quite close to each other. Bethany's husband, Francis, is a distinguished looking gentleman.

He is a poet and his poems earns him big bucks at the European circuit. I thought he was a stuck up prude when I first met him, but he warmed to me soon after. I never realized poets had such risqué jokes in their repertoire. He told jokes that made cowboys blush! And while he'd put on his frigid, uppity behavior when we met someone else, with me, he was like another construction worker. Cracking tawdry jokes, drinking beer, laughing boisterously and having fun. We hit along well too.

We came across Bethany and Francis at most reunions and while they stayed in Europe, they would visit us at least once a year, or they would make it a point to come to our house when they were touring or promoting his works.

I knew Rachael and Bethany were with each other since third grade. And if you've never been tortured before in your life, you should try sitting with two ladies who know each other since third grade and watch them go at it. Everything from the make of the clothes, to food, to the fact the janitor was divorced because he fell in love with someone else to the fact the carpet in this room stank of rum and that the music sucked and that so-and-so was planning to have another baby, was covered between them.

And when they started talking about the buttons, their shapes, the clothes and their color combination on particular materials, I kind of zoned out. Like I said, they were very close to each other.

Rachael and Bethany were not virgins, and already had gone through many partners, when they married me and Francis respectively. Nothing to fret about, as neither were Francis and me virgins when we fell in love and married them.

Because of this closeness and familiarity, they chatted about everything in particular. Even their boyfriends in high schools and colleges.

Among all their boyfriends (they did discuss them loudly) the name Brian kept popping up again and again.

Francis and me were familiar with Brian. He was the only one, whom both Rachael and Bethany had as a boyfriend, years apart, of course, in their college. They were sexually active with him during college. Of course, I had met Brian occasionally in a couple of these reunions. And while Rachael kind of gave an awkward smile and moved off, Bethany generally chatted more freely. A couple of times I also found myself in conversation with Brian.

I had long discovered that Brian was a normal guy. He was married and when he spoke to Rachael or attempted to talk to Bethany, his demeanor was that of an old acquaintance. He was comfortable with them. He always brought his wife, Sable, and both their children along. He always made it a point to speak to Rachael and Bethany with Sable around.

He was settled in Tokyo and was quite successful as General Manager of an electronics firm there. While he was not there for all reunions, he did come by enough for me to recognize him and Sable from a distance.

He seemed to be genuinely in love with his wife and his family. I have to admit, in our earlier years, after hearing discussions about Brian from Rachael, I generally tried to keep an eye on Brian in these reunions. But he always approached Rachael and Bethany with his wife and kids, said hello, spoke for a few moments then moved off to mingle with other guests. I never saw him as much as raise his head and look at Rachael again. Or Bethany, for that matter.

Regular guy, like I told you.

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Which is why when the name 'Brian' popped up in my subconscious, I knew that Rachael and Bethany were talking about him. While they talked about Brian like they would of any other ex of theirs, today, in this re-union, they were going at it with hammer and tongs. Case in point: Brian's girth.

Brian had put on weight in the last couple of years and much resembled the jolly Santa today at this re-union. Not that it mattered to him. He was happy in his own world. But of course, Rachael and Bethany being who they were, never stopped going at him.

"I can't believe Sabs lets him climb atop her." I heard Bethany say.

They both guffawed loudly.

"I think it's more that SHE climbs up on Brian, yeah?" retorted Rachael.

"Yeah! She must be getting her hobby of mountain climbing satisfied right there in her bedroom! Fucking Mount Everest -- in flesh!! " added Bethany.

Laughter from them both.

"Do you think the way he has blown up nowadays, he can see his own dick when he takes a bath?" Said Rachael. Her voice almost a whisper, still clear enough for myself and Francis to hear.

"Forget the dick, I think he can't even see his own toes!!" Commented Bethany.

More laughter from them. Francis had a smile on his face. It was obvious he was listening to them, but did not want to show them that he was.

"How do you think he manages to get it in with his Santa Claus tummy in the way?" asked Bethany.

"Probably the same way he used to do us. Sitting in the chair and asking Sable to sit on it. He's quite big that way, you know." Replied Rachael.

I got just that little wince of discomfort in hearing Rachael say that. But they were talking so animatedly, I figured it must have slipped out. And I can't grudge them that bit.

Still...

Instinctively, I looked around for Brian. I needn't have. He was at the buffet, with his plate piled on. And Sable, presumably giving him a piece of her mind, pointing again and again at the plate and his stomach. He shoulders were slouched and he seemed to take her jibes like any henpecked husband. Like I said, a normal regular guy, who aged normally.

I turned my head back to the conversation. I saw Francis was also listening intently at them, a smile still on his face. Poets are quite tolerant, I think you know that.

The girls were giggling now.

"Yes. That went up real deep inside my belly." Said Bethany.

"In that position, he really knocked at the door, didn't he?" asked Rachael, referring to their uterus, I presume.

Bethany nodded knowingly, a far off look in her face.

"Sometimes, it went beyond too, eh?" continued Rachael.

I was getting distinctly uncomfortable. Listening to your wife talk about how good it was with her boyfriend during college days is always a little unnerving.

"You know the first time, I was actually scared! I thought I'm never going to get that humungous thing inside me." Said Bethany, whispering to Rachael, as it it were a secret only the two of them had experienced. "And I'd love to get that feeling again." She added.

I could see the smile disappearing off Francis' face.

He looked at me as if to say 'Why the fuck are they talking about this?'

"I used to cum in liters!" said Rachael excitedly. "And he made you come so much in a single night isn't it?"

I could see Bethany reminiscing in her mind, scanning the faces of everyone in her memories, thinking about the good old days, when her eyes stopped on Francis. And his frown. And ice in his eyes.

Suddenly stopping, looked at Francis, realizing that her husband was listening and not liking it, Bethany's face had an expression that you get when you throw cold water on someone's face. I think she came to from whatever high it was that she had.

A washed-out expression spread on her face, when she realized the effect her statements must have had on Francis. She loved him and he was the only one for her. And she didn't want to something from her past to affect her present. Francis was her future.

Her face told me she realized how close she had come to a full blown insult of Francis and buttoned up.

But Rachael continuing, not seeing what was going around, was too deep into it.

Bethany looked up to Rachael sharply, as if signaling to her that it had gone far enough.

"Forget it, Rach. That was then. Now, our husbands are our only true love. They are our future. Our lives. No need of thinking about our past. We don't live there anymore. And I think nothing compares to our love making with our husbands. Nobody. Our husbands are our universe now." She said, still smiling, but motioning to ask Rachel to shut up, and trying to soften the blow for Francis and myself, by reassuring us of their love and devotion.

But Rachael was too much into it to pick up the visual clue Bethany had provided.

Then she made a mother of a statement.

"You know, till today, I have never cum more times in one night with anyone, except Brian. He was the only one who satisfied me fully."

I paused mid-way to my sip of the wine glass. What did she just say??!!

The awkward silence between the three of us brought Rachael out of her funk.

As soon as she said that, she realized what she had just uttered!!

Her head jerked immediately towards me, even as her hand went to her mouth. She gasped when she saw me with my wine glass paused halfway to my lips, my mouth agape.

The anger spread. From my spine to the back of my neck and finally, my eyes and lips. Francis had turned dead serious. Bethany had an expression that must have told Rachael that she had gone past her limit.

She realized how bad her comments sounded to everyone around. Her eyes became wide with understanding at the implications of her last statement. To me. To both of us. To our happiness and our marriage. To our marital bed. To our marital bliss. She looked at me in the shock of realization. The moment she saw me, she knew our life would never be the same again.

In a single sentence, she had declared that Brian was better in sex than anyone she had experienced so far.

Even me, her husband of ten years.

That despite all happiness and security and love I provided, she still remembered the sex with Brian because it was the best with him. That the intimacy and security we shared when we made love, was not worth talking about in public. And that sex with Brian was apparently so exciting enough, that she could still remember it 10 years after marriage, 1 son and a husband who loved her. And was worth to commenting for, in public. That 'No one satisfied her like he did. Ever.'

In a single sentence, she just emasculated me.

Broken that space shared only between husband and wife. And while normally, this would have been acceptable, to share it with your spouse, in private, though begrudgingly, it was the worst statement she could have made in public.

I did not know if she was going with the flow, or she had genuinely said it.

But all of a sudden I felt... inadequate. And a lot angry. It seemed like a betrayal of the most insidious kind. I gritted my teeth and refrained from commenting to her look or to the fact that everyone around were looking at the four of us, understanding that something was amiss.

Now, if you were any man, a real man, you'd probably have been pissed too, but would have advised me to be strong enough to man it out and continue. After all, it was just a comment uttered in the heat of the moment by my wife who loved me, took care of me, my home and my son. From a woman who had given so much to me. While there was no need to NOT get angry, it was nothing to be taken so seriously. It was just that. A comment. Not a picture of my ability to satisfy my wife.

But you did not see the earnestness in Rachael's face. You did not see the twinkle in her eyes. You did not see the subtle shift in her posture, which told me she was squeezing her thighs together, at that statement.

You did not see her fingers swirl around lazily along the rim of her wineglass, something she did when she was thinking of sex with me. You did not see her happiness at that.

You were not there.

"Oh God, No Chris!! That's not how I meant for it to come out...!! Please!! Honey!!" was all she said, before I got up from my chair, and walked towards the exit.

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After I walked towards the exit, I had to walk all the way towards where my car was parked.

Rachael was along me all the time. She was clutching my elbow, blubbering, apologizing, begging me to overlook that, telling me how stupid she was, and what she meant while talking about Brian was that it was long then, and that for the last 13 years she loved me only me, that I was her only one and that I was the most important person in the world to her, and she loved our son and she loved sex with me and that I satisfied her completely and deeply, like no man ever did to her before.

That she grew so hot thinking about me and my cock, that my body turned her on so much. That there was no man who brought her off like I did and she came the most with me and that no man made her scream and beg for more sex that I ever did.

But you know how it is. When something hits you bad, that is all you remember.

'He was the only one who satisfied me fully.'

That statement ran repeatedly in my head. And that was making all statements Rachael was uttering about how good I was and about how I satisfied her, just that bit more hard to believe.

She did not give up.

Instead, she began running circles around me, telling me how much she loved me, and that sex with me was the most important and satisfying than anything else in the world, and that I was the only one who gave her the intensity she had never had in her life before and how she got off many times during sex, more than anyone whom she had ever been with, and that Brian and all others were nothing compared to what I did to her in bed, when I lost it!!

"And I suppose, I also knock at your door when I have sex?" I asked, coldly.

Cruel. The look on her face told me she realized what she had done. She knew she had made a mistake. Big one. The force of its impact taking her breath away.

What was she going to say? Forget it Chris, it was just a comment? This was not something that wives say to their husbands to get something from them. This was not a comment which wives generally use such as 'you're lazy, see how Tom (our neighbor) mows the lawn' or that 'don't drink so much, I don't think you can take it.' Or some such harmless comment, that is actually meant to goad the men into doing something they don't like, but the wife does. Generally in matters of the house and the kids.

But this? This was different. It was a direct attack on my masculinity. And the fact that she uttered this when she was not aware, or trying to drive home a point, or trying to intentionally hurt me, made it all the more real. And scary.