A Few Unpleasant Memories From Marty

Well, before I hit the PUBLISH button I'm going to say that I have had a little trouble putting this into my blog/diary. It’s taken me a little time; an hour or so.

First; yesterday Marty and I were watching a movie at my apartment when things became a bit amorous between us. I have been still feeling the lingering effects of my appendectomy and intimacy has been kind of tricky. In fact, it has been so tricky that the intimacy has been non-existent. We tried a few days ago and at one point early on things got a little uncomfortable and I kind of let out a little yelp. That ended that. I told Marty I was willing to continue but my little yowl made him a bit too hesitant. I told him I could satisfy him in other ways but he declined. I think he prefers that we both be capable of full participation.  

Last night I was able to fully participate. We paused the movie and went at it right there on my sofa. I think I can safely say that we were both pretty horny. In fact, we were both pretty horny twice in fairly rapid order.

Afterwards we lay there together under a comforter with me kind of wrapped in Marty’s arms, and somehow we got to talking about our parents. Marty’s father is 69 years old. Marty says he likes his father but that was not always the case. Marty stated that when he was a boy his father was “a hitter”. He did not hit Marty’s mother, but he struck Marty quite often. He did not hit Marty hard enough make a bruise or welt, but Marty said that between the ages of 7 or 8 to about 15, he was hit a few times a week on average. Marty recalled that one day he was hit for leaving his bicycle in the back yard, the next day he was hit for parking it on the driveway, and the following day he was hit for putting his bike in the garage. After that he left his bike with a neighbor boy. He said that during those years he really grew to hate his father.

One day when Marty was 15 years old, he was going to take some girl to a movie and he decided to gargle with an ounce or so of mouthwash. As Marty was gargling, his father came up to him and hit him and barked at him to “quit making that awful gurgle sound”. Marty said that the adrenaline just surged through him. He spit out the mouthwash, turned around and slapped his father across the face with the back of his hand. He then told his father that he was to never hit him ever again.

As Marty was telling this, he became very emotional; a combination of anger and sadness. He said his father was shocked at being slapped. Marty's father did not say a word and just kind of hurried away. Marty said that his father never again hit him. These days Marty says that he and his father have become friends, but he says that it is something of a tragedy that there was a long period when he absolutely hated his father.

I did not know how to respond to Marty’s remembrances, but I’m glad he told me, and I think Marty felt better for talking about it. The only response I had was to say that my father never once hit me and that these days he has become a friend, yes, but I still think of him more as I did 20 years ago; as my dad.

In about a half hour Marty and I will be headed out for Thai. My stomach is growling.