I have that look on my face of a man coming home from work early to find his wife in bed with another man. Shocking! Rigor mortis has already set in and I can't let go of the cat which was meowing to be let into the house. It is around this time in my life that I just landed a steady job and things started to look a little better financially for me and the missus, but now… now the fear of getting a divorce because she's cheating totally puts me in a quandary.
I literally can't see anything from the denial I'm experiencing, and I trip over the hamburger somebody left on the floor in the kitchen, opening up a gash in my brow which leaves a trail of blood leading to Moe's. I am patched up with a butterfly bandage and sent on my way. I return to beg my wife not to leave me.
I suffer migrains for the next several years which puts a damper on our sex life. She continues to cheat in the marriage. I remain celibate, optimistic that she will come to her senses, for I only have eyes for her. People begin to wonder about me when I don't react to some of the bombshell divas seeking casual fun. The entire community takes pity on me. Even the gay community think I deserve a sympathy fuck. But temptation having always been one of my weaknesses, I don't let anybody near. I distance myself socially from people so I don't commit the same mistake. Obviously, I must've done something horrible I can't remember in my past that I should deserve such a miserable life.
People finally start to accept the concept of the cat in my hand. They see it as my seeing eye cat, as they should. Living in this hell on earth, the best form of guidance is a beast of burden with a link to the devil.