My Shocking Lack of Impulse Control

What the hell’s wrong with me?

Good question, baby.

Any man in his right mind, married to you, wouldn’t do the things I do.

I don’t know what makes me chase pussy like I need it to live. I don’t need it to live. I can honestly say the only thing I really need to live is you, but for some reason, I just can’t keep my mind, or my hands, or my dick off of any receptive woman that comes along. Is it the challenge of getting someone else to fuck me? Is it the danger of getting caught? Is it boredom? A self-destructive urge? A chemical imbalance? Simple stupidity?

I dated a girl in college who broke up with people when she began to feel like things were going too well. She was too happy, too comfortable, and therefore, something was wrong with the relationship. So she quit.

Am I doing the same thing, in a much more painful, destructive way? Maybe.

I love you. Only you. And it kills me that I keep hurting you. But as much as I try, I just can’t stop. I try to avoid situations where I’ll be alone with other women, but I always find myself getting close to them and, invariably, it seems, ending up in bed with them.

You’re not doing anything wrong. I have only ever made love with you—I only fuck other women. They don’t do anything for me that you don’t do better. You outclass, out-look, out-love, out-everything every one of the bimbos, sluts, MILFs, nice ladies, trophy-wives-to-be, hookers, B-girls, hangers-on, and wanna-bes I’ve ever fucked.

I’m sick, baby. Sick. I’m making you bitter, driving you away. I’ve gotten to the point that I don’t even try to hide my fucking around. It’s like I’m smoking crack or something (no charmingly southern colloquialism intended). I need your help. I need your love. Please.

I know I don’t deserve what must be a two-hundredth chance from you, but I’m begging you for it. Please help me through counseling. Please try to understand and help me understand what it is in me that makes me want to fuck up the most complete, best, most incredible, and irreplaceable thing in my life. I love you, only you. Forever you.

I know any promises I make at this stage are going to sound hollow, but I promise I’ll do whatever you want me to do to make this—us—all right again. If you want to lock me in the basement from the time I get home from work until the time I go back to work, that’s OK with me. If you want to cage my cock so I can’t use it, do it. If you want to have me hypnotized so I can’t speak to any other woman, I’ll try it. Anything.

Just, please, don’t leave me. I can’t do without you. Please.

© 2025, Brian G Parker