I was a proud biker
Posted: Wed May 19, 2010 1:06 am
I was a proud biker........
I was manly, fearless, wild and I was free and I had long hair.
My wife followed to met me, not vice versa. No matter where I went, she was already there. It is now twelve years ago. At that time I was a confirmed die hard biker, wearing only black sweat-shirts, frayed jeans and biker boots, and I wore long hair.
Of course, I also had an outfit for special occasions. Then I wore a black sweat-shirt, frayed jeans and white sneakers.
Housework was an evil, which I avoided whenever it was possible.
But I liked myself and my life. And she met me like this and loved my for that reasons.
"You are my dream man. You're so manly, so bold, so wild and so free."
With freedom, it was soon over, we decided to get married. Why not, I was daring manly, almost free and I had long hair.
But only up to the wedding. Shortly before I heard her say: "You could at least go to the hairdresser, my parents will come to the wedding."
Hours, endless tears and days later I gave in and let me miss a fashionable short hair, because ultimately I loved it, and what the fuck, I was still manly reckless, almost free, and had a nice hairdress. And I was soooo sweet.
"Honey, I love you just as you are," she breathed.
Life was fine, although it was a bit cold on the head. It followed weeks of peaceful togetherness, until my wife one day with a big bag under his arm, stood before me. She got a shirt, a Pollunder and a new pair of trousers out and said, "Try that, please at times." Days, weeks, months and more endless tears I gave in, and wore shirts, Pollunder and fabric pants. This was followed by black shoes, jackets, ties and designer gowns. But I was manly, wild and had short hair.
Then came the biggest battle. The struggle for motorcycle.
However, he did not take very long, because in the black suit, leather shoes and tie it can not fight very well. . But what the hell, I was manly, almost free, I drove a mini van, and I had a nice haircut.
As the years went by many battles followed that I lost all in a sea of tears. I washed clothes and dishes, went shopping, pressed my trousers, heared Hits by heart, drinking lovely red wine and went for a walk on Sundays.
What the hell, I thought I was a sissy, caught, felt like shit and my hair was dressed well.
One fine day my wife was standing with packed suitcases in front of me and said,
"I leave you."
Completely surprised, I asked her why.
"I love you no more, you have changed so much. You're not the man I once met."
I recently met her again. Her "New" is a long-haired die hard biker with tattoos and ripped jeans who looked at me with pity......
.
I was manly, fearless, wild and I was free and I had long hair.
My wife followed to met me, not vice versa. No matter where I went, she was already there. It is now twelve years ago. At that time I was a confirmed die hard biker, wearing only black sweat-shirts, frayed jeans and biker boots, and I wore long hair.
Of course, I also had an outfit for special occasions. Then I wore a black sweat-shirt, frayed jeans and white sneakers.
Housework was an evil, which I avoided whenever it was possible.
But I liked myself and my life. And she met me like this and loved my for that reasons.
"You are my dream man. You're so manly, so bold, so wild and so free."
With freedom, it was soon over, we decided to get married. Why not, I was daring manly, almost free and I had long hair.
But only up to the wedding. Shortly before I heard her say: "You could at least go to the hairdresser, my parents will come to the wedding."
Hours, endless tears and days later I gave in and let me miss a fashionable short hair, because ultimately I loved it, and what the fuck, I was still manly reckless, almost free, and had a nice hairdress. And I was soooo sweet.
"Honey, I love you just as you are," she breathed.
Life was fine, although it was a bit cold on the head. It followed weeks of peaceful togetherness, until my wife one day with a big bag under his arm, stood before me. She got a shirt, a Pollunder and a new pair of trousers out and said, "Try that, please at times." Days, weeks, months and more endless tears I gave in, and wore shirts, Pollunder and fabric pants. This was followed by black shoes, jackets, ties and designer gowns. But I was manly, wild and had short hair.
Then came the biggest battle. The struggle for motorcycle.
However, he did not take very long, because in the black suit, leather shoes and tie it can not fight very well. . But what the hell, I was manly, almost free, I drove a mini van, and I had a nice haircut.
As the years went by many battles followed that I lost all in a sea of tears. I washed clothes and dishes, went shopping, pressed my trousers, heared Hits by heart, drinking lovely red wine and went for a walk on Sundays.
What the hell, I thought I was a sissy, caught, felt like shit and my hair was dressed well.
One fine day my wife was standing with packed suitcases in front of me and said,
"I leave you."
Completely surprised, I asked her why.
"I love you no more, you have changed so much. You're not the man I once met."
I recently met her again. Her "New" is a long-haired die hard biker with tattoos and ripped jeans who looked at me with pity......
.
