Cupid's Chokehold

Cupid's Chokehold

Her silence stretches on for an eternity. Her gaze shreds the tattered vestiges of my dignity.

I hate this.

I hate the never-ending feeling of freefall that comes with her stare, like a roller coaster drop that never ends. Apprehension clouds my senses, making me feel utterly powerless.

That’s what bothers me the most. I’m genuinely afraid of what she’s about to say. Her control over my life is so internalized that I’m trembling like some petulant toddler caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

She knows how powerful this silence is. How cruelly effective it is in reducing me to a blubbering mess. She enjoys it.

I cannot stand it. For fucks sake, I’m a grown man cowering in a soggy diaper in front of my former wife, terrified of the punishment that is undoubtedly coming my way.

All because I said something “naughty” to her.

I’m trembling because I said “crap.”

Crap.

I let her so thoroughly dominate my life she even took my language. She wasn’t content merely destroying my dignity, autonomy, and independence. No, she took everything. My adulthood included.

And for what, you might ask? All because I became incontinent. Because “she’s never seen anything more pathetic than a grown man in a diaper.” Diapers cost me my marriage, sex life, and adulthood.

Now, I have this. If I’m lucky, I’ll only have to stare at a wall in timeout for who knows how long. If I’m not, I’ll be sobbing on her lap as she spanks me.

Either way, I’ll accept it. Because that’s what I am now. This is my life.

I’ll tearfully apologize to her in my soggy diaper, looking—and acting—every bit as pathetic as she says.

I just wish she’d say something and end this infernal silence.