I sneak out of my house some nights

I sleep in my own bed, separately from my wife with the exception of our “conjugal” visits. She’s always been accommodating of my solo sleeping, because she likes a warm room that is as silent as a crypt, and I like a room with the windows thrown open and a fan on. This noise drowns out my tinnitus (from shooting in the military) and the cold room is pleasant. What my wife doesn’t know, is that I secretly leave the house 3 nights a week, sometimes 4.

I leave to ride my bicycle around the city at night, sometimes putting in 50-75 miles per ride. I wait until everyone in my house is asleep, usually about 10pm is a safe bet. I sneak into the yard, walk the bike to the street, and start riding. Ive made friends that are only out and about after dark. I’m friends with a striped cat that sleeps on an old broken RV in an alleyway and she lets me pick her up now. I love riding by the bakery, where people are preparing for the next morning and moving ingredients in and out of a big fluorescent room. There are these old black men that sit on the steps of an apartment building, and we talk about our lives, and they know I’m from the middle class part of the city but they still smile at me when I ride up and call out “hey man!”
I stop at this late night pizza shop and get a slice around midnight, drink a pint, and then ride home.
My ride is different on Wednesdays. On Wednesdays I join this group of youngsters that group ride from midnight to 2am. I wear a buff covering my face like a mask so they can’t tell I’m an old fart, and I shred around with these teenage hipsters until they get too tired to keep going, and then I ride 10 or so miles home. I get up at 6am, make my family breakfast, and then we all go to work and school. My wife often comments on my legs being toned. She doesn’t realize I’m riding 200-400 miles a week. I don’t know why I don’t want to tell her about my night riding. It isn’t meant to be a secret, but I think I enjoy the escape. I’m not a good writer and I’m not trying to be one. I think I just wanted to tell someone about my night riding, without the implied drama in “off my chest” subreddits. Thanks for reading.

Comments

So my wife’s going to a gala tonight — as her client’s “date.”

I’m 44 and my wife is 44. She works on an art advisory committee, so attending galas, events, and client meetings is part of her job. She often meets clients for coffee, lunch, or dinner, and I don’t always know the details and that’s completely normal because it’s part of her work. She’s always professional, transparent about her friendships, and I trust her judgment completely. Recently, she mentioned she’s going to a gala with a friend, S. He’s a wealthy client she met about a year ago, and they became friends professionally. She introduced me to him once, and he seems like a genuinely good person. He invited her as his “date” to this gala, and my wife said it’s fine. I did ask her though, if she’s actually going as a “date,” and she just laughed and said, “Date doesn’t always mean romantic.” She said it’s important for her she could get networking and meet new people. Then she smiled and said, “If I get into this gala next time, I won’t need to take that man with me, I’ll take you...

The time I quit my job mid shift and walked out

Eight years ago I was working a customer service job that already had me burned out but one day my boss screamed at me in front of customers over something that wasn’t even my fault. Something in me just snapped. I took off my apron handed it to him and said “I’m done” Then I walked straight out the door and never looked back. Didn’t even go back for my final paycheck. It sounds impulsive but it was one of the most freeing empowering things I’ve ever done. Up until that moment I thought I had to just take it and that quitting mid shift was “unprofessional” But honestly that day taught me there’s a line between being dedicated and being disrespected. I was playing apex earlier and thought about how that single decision changed my whole mindset about self worth. It’s wild how one moment of courage can stick with you for nearly a decade. Still one of the best choices I’ve ever made.

I made my breast reconstruction surgeon cry with laughter

After the long process of a double mastectomy, I finally got my permanent breast implants in, and was very happy with them. As a bonus, I discovered that since they were put directly on top of my chest muscles, I could do a neat trick! I can “twerk” my breasts one at a time or together, making them dance quite vigorously! I went for my checkup and said, Hey Doc, look what I can do now…and showed off their bouncy dancing skills. He literally dropped his chart and bent over laughing until tears came into his eyes. He said I was the first patient to do that to him, and he couldn’t stop laughing the rest of the visit. I encourage other patients of this type of surgery to try it, it’s quite fun and entertaining. Edit: thanks for the kind comments and award, guess I can say I won an award for bouncing my boobies now. Note: for those who say video or it didn't happen, I get it, but I'm not going to post my boobs all over the internet!

Bimql chhetry.

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