It's been almost eleven months since she walked out of my life.  Writing about her has forced me to relive that last night with her.  What if I had let her knee me?  Or, when I blocked it, had I excited her by protecting myself so much that she wanted sex?  Were her tears real?  I know women can turn on the waterworks at will.  When I told her it was over, was it her plan to punish me?  When she had punched, kicked, slapped, and kneed me in the past, and she wanted sex, the only way I would…

I wanted to take Helen in my arms and sooth her racking sobs, but part of me suspected a trick to get me close enough for a swift knee.  She looked so vulnerable, though, that I had to take the chance.  I took her by the hands and guided her to my sofa, where we sat down.  She melted against me and wept.  I stroked her hair and told her she'd find someone else, someone who'd agree with her politics.  She looked up at me with tear-filled eyes and said she didn't want someone else.  I almost…

I left the rally via Uber.  I waited until Helen left the room before I limped out the door to call it.  It was hard standing outside.  The late October wind had picked up, and I had forgotten my hat inside.  I wasn't going back in to be mocked.  I had had enough of those ugly women grabbing their crotches and yodeling, then falling to their knees for Helen's amusement.  Also, my post-bust wood was very visible, and I really didn't want to be teased for my fetish by…

As the election neared, Helen grew more distant.  To her, I was the enemy because I didn't follow her leftist herd mentality.  I'm just not into politics.  If and when I do vote, it's by flipping a coin.  She believed everything the media said about the president, and I didn't care.  My apathy enraged and disgusted her.  One would think she'd bust me more because of that, but our dates became fewer, and I seldom spent the night.  When I was over there, she'd insist we watch cable news, which…