Date: September 2nd, 2016 3:43 AM
Author: Mind-boggling water buffalo becky
She came home from work just as I finished preparing the bruschetta. I poured her a light, playful prosecco by Menage a Trois. She ate wordlessly while I left to check on the roast. I took her sobriety as good news. Although I fully respect a woman's freedom to enjoy alcohol as she sees fit, my wife can sometimes becomes very demonstrative under the influence of happy juice. Things have been tense lately after she drunkenly revealed that my coworker had fucked her in an orgy with five other friends/acquaintances of mine. I've watched the video a couple of times. I don't blame her, but it's made things a little stressful at work. After seeing a man split your wife's love canyon to her visible delight, it can be a little difficult to issue a stern interoffice memorandum about respecting differences in the workplace.
I folded my apron and placed it in the laundry hamper, then loaded up the roast onto the serving tray for my wife. She pointed to a manila folder on the table. I opened it. My jaw dropped.
"Honey, you filed already."
She nodded and took another swig of wine.
"I thought you were going to wait until I could find a lawyer."
"I changed my mind."
We hadn't yet agreed on a visitation schedule for our son. I found this ambush a little impolite.
"Honey, can we talk about this?"
"I'd like you to move out," she said.
I couldn't help thinking that I had nowhere to go. Late capitalism imposes some definite material constraints on the human body. It's important to recognize that my wife was not operating from a place of privilege in this exchange. She needed an emotional space, but the logic of capitalism has turned human shelter (which should be a universal right) into a commodity. We have to critique the structure and raise consciousness, instead of blaming victims (my wife and I are both victims, although as a cis-white male, I definitely approach our interactions from a position of privilege).
"Where should I go?" I mewled.
She shrugged. "I need you to leave tonight. My boyfriends are coming over, and I don't need you around."
For no reason at all, I slammed my fist on the table. There was a strange momentary glitter in her eyes, then her face relaxed into placid indifference.
I found a motel for the weekend. The owners apparently know my wife; she's a regular.
(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=3339323&forum_id=2#31319957)