The last day of my life

I fucked up royally this time and I believe it's final. I lied to her. Again. The fuck is wrong with me!!??

For what may be the first time it feels true, I don't care if I die tonight. Or tomorrow. But if i'm gonna die soon, then sooner is better because every minute is hell. it's 810pm her time, and if she's taking him tonight then they're either on their way or already at the swing club. My stomach is in knots - I thought because I hadn't eaten all day but I just ate 20 mins ago and it's no better. Maybe even worse, especially as the night wears on and I imagine more and more what she's doing.

I am such a fucking fool. Idiot. Like countless men before me, i've let my cock fuck up my life. Completely fuck it up.

It's now 915pm friday night, her time. Where is she? What's she doing? The thought of it kills me. Which is strange considering the desire we both had to have 3- or more-somes and group sex. When we talked about it together, the thought of her woth multiple partners, men or women, was (and is) terribly exciting. But not now, not like this. I feel like the virgin guy who married his virgin sweetheart and is now waiting for her, knowing that she's out fucking others.

Why am I such an idiot?

The thing that makes this hell so unique, this private hell built just for me (and by me) is that I don't know if she's at the swing club tonight; she might not take him till tomorrow night. Or both nights. But I'll get to visit this hell of mine every weekend for the rest of my life.

And still she won't leave my mind. The last 30 minutes were the longest 30 hours of my life.

Thirty more minutes; it might have just as well been thirty days. My stomach is churning, actually hurts. My heart is empty, crushed, destroyed, breaking. What have I done? And for what?