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No, I got it, she replied from across the room and grabbed a shirt. She slipped it over her head as I walked across the room towards her. When I got to her I pulled her up against me and put my hands around the neck of the shirt. Then I pulled down and ripped it off her body aggressively. No, tonight I am picking out your clothes, I said sternly and walked towards her bag to pick out the outfit I had planned for her. I reached into the bag and pulled out a skimpy black clubbing dress and tossed. The final option was to go back inside and confront my wife; a task which I really wanted to avoid because it would most likely lead to another ugly altercation. With much deliberation I decided that I had to confront her to protect my sanity. It had to be done in such a way that I did not appear to be the aggressor. I stared vacantly at the doorway trying to conjure up enough courage to go through with it. It was time for me to spoil the party. Loudly opening the door I walked inside, slamming. I walked around and replaced the lights in two lamps, but it didn't make the place look any better. We were all behaving sort of lost when Jill started cleaning up. "Alex, any towels left in that closet?"There were some indeterminate cloth objects on the middle shelf. Garbage bags, paper towels, plastic utensils and toilet paper, were on the bottom shelf, with some cleaning supplies on the floor along with a bucket a broom and a mop. I dragged the main cleaning supplies out, setting them to the. It could very well be so, because here I was, thirty-nine, divorced and ready to invite a naked man into my apartment, one I had never said one single word to before that day. Is it or is it not insane?I have heard the so-called "experts" state men are more visual than women. Perhaps is so, but all I knew was I wanted to be visual with this man any way I could. I wanted to stare at him, all of him and devour him with my eyes. Right then and there, on some visceral level I knew this was my man..
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