Ever since I was little, I've excelled at quipping and debating.  I could make Oscar Wilde cry like a bitch with my ready wit.

Ever been walking away from a situation, and then think of the perfect comeback for the circumstance that is over now?  I don't.  If I hesitate, it's because I'm trying to choose between multiple comebacks and cataloguing the others for later.

My debate skills are also brilliant.  I can logically, semantically, or otherwise invalidate your arguments, almost at will.  If your arguments have a flaw, I'm prone to finding it.

I never in my life thought this would be a disadvantage in getting along in life.  Hell, sometimes it's like a fucking superpower.  It's made it so I can't discuss my marital problems with my wife.  She knows I'll pull some Jedi mind tricks on her and make her look stupid.  This is despite the fact that many of her arguments are stupid.  I'm not saying I don't have any warts on my ass.  I'd have done some things differently if I could go back in time.  I'm just saying, that after doing it for 18 years, pointing out logical fallacies in ones argument starts to lose its impact.  My intellect and quick wit is fucking crippling to my marriage right now.  It's not that I lack the self control to avoid fighting words or denigration in general.  I hold back.  The minute I start rebuttal, she shuts down and stops listening now.

Went out to see Limitless with her tonight.  We were, with a couple exceptions, civil.  I held her hand.  It was cold, so I drove the car up to pick her up.  I thanked her for going out with me.  I gave her a kiss.  She might have kissed me back a little.  I'd like to think so, but I wasn't paying close enough attention.  Fuck it.

In discussing the equity of her being a dancing queen while I watch the kids, it's apparently my turn to go out while she watches the kids.  Now what the fuck do I do?  She's supposedly not fucking anybody (not even me right now).  So I can't just go out and get laid.  That would make a "fault" divorce.  I'd lose my alimony and it would fuck up my custody situation.  I don't have any friends that are party monsters other than those I've connected with through swinging.  That's out.  What the fuck am I going to do?

The worst part was she brought it up "next week, do you want to go out?"  What she actually said was "next week, do YOU want to go out?"  I initially thought she was inviting me to go out with her next week.  I masked my disappointment reasonably well when I understood the context.  I said that next week, I did want to go out instead of her.

If it goes well with the counsellor, perhaps I'll get her mother to babysit and I'll invite her out next weekend.  I should have my stitches out and be fit for sexual activity.  That's assuming that I'm going to be having sex with my wife in the near future.  That remains to be seen.  I'll give her two choices:  Red Rooster (or similar venue) or a proper dance-style club that won't make me vomit.  The latter might be tough for me to find.