Tuesday, January 27, 2026

Journey 210 ~Braxton’s Forgiveness Lessons V~

Dear Future Wife,
You know that I love you, right? And how long has that been again? Am I asking to die? Uh, this week?

As much as I believe I’m going to the Ninth Circle of Hell, I have hope. Such mad hope, but there it is. I may see my son again. My B III. But what about you, our kids, and 2-V?

But first there’s you. Ok, I’m lying. First, there was/is my Braxton. My firstborn son.

Babydoll, “I Knew I Loved You before I met you.” Only I can say the same thing to B III.

“I’m sorry.” Two more words I’ve been thinking a lot about this week. Braxton’s last. That was five years ago, of course. Has Braxton forgiven me for what happened? Death.

McDonald’s doesn’t deliver to the Rainbow Bridge. But with enough time, Braxton would forgive me. A good track record, right?

“Pinch me, pinch me
‘Cause I’m still asleep
Please, God, tell me
That I’m still asleep.”
Barenaked Ladies ‧ 2000

“Love Is A Long Road.” As long as “Rainbow Road?” Our children, and that’s Virgil too, deserve better than a man like me. A man who can never forgive the boy who grew up to be me. Would it honor Braxton if I could adopt his teaching? Like adopting Virgil.

Honestly, he’s mine, ours, everything we have. Yet “I’m feelin’ like a prisoner. Like a stranger in a no named town.” And “Nobody Knows it but me.” “What’ve I’ve Done?”

Hell! I should apologize for all the music I’m quoting. Why? I’m not MAGA. FDT! Apologizing to this forty-one-year-old man that I am. What does it do? Whose it for?

Seriously, my dearest Love, it would do nothing. It would mean nothing. I hate myself.

“Only you?” Should you apologize, or shall I? What if we both conceded, concur, and come apart in each other’s arms? Submit, surrender, and swear to each other that what’s done is done, and we can try never to hurt each other again. But we will. It’s Love, always and forever. I could never hate you. Though the term hatefuck comes to mind. And why.

Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day? More like “A Hard’s Day Night.” Cruelty? Darling, you can be so “Heartless.” I mourn my son always and forever. And I can’t ask you to mourn a dead man. We’d both be saying we’re sorry until we’re blue in the face, and then what? I love you. Braxton’s Forgiveness Lessons V

1822 Days Without B III, Day 1263 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Tuesday, January 20, 2026

Journey 203 ~Just B Here Virgil~

Dear Future Wife,
You know that I love you, right? So why play “Things You Can Say About Your Dog But Not Your Girlfriend” Wife?

“Be Here Now.” Isn’t that from “A Dog’s Purpose”? That reminds me… WTF! I should read yet another book about dog loss next week. Currently, I’m reading another HaremLit book, but we’ll get to that. Like Sunday, January 31, 2021, Saturday, August 13, 2022, Forty-One Effing E-Days. But “You And Me?” I swear I didn’t want to cry today. Effing Lifehouse! Effing Sunday, August 24, 2025. Who would I be if that day went differently?

A “Lonely Soul” sitting in the middle of a “Mad World.” Me and the mutt? Do I mean Braxton’s little brother, Virgil? Tarnished and maidenless, a “geek” playing Elden Ring. Not even a man? Land? No, fatherhood is the epitome of manhood. And some make me out to be androgynous…

“Pinch me, pinch me
‘Cause I’m still asleep
Please, God, tell me
That I’m still asleep.”
Barenaked Ladies ‧ 2000

No! You, my love, know I’m all man. But if you weren’t here… Hell, I’d love to be Johnny Sins. I’d fornicate till my cock turns blue. Effing my way across the seven seas. Forever?

If I didn’t have you, my love, I’d end up like Kaoru from Slaves to Passion/Hana Dorei. I would lose myself to… Beautiful but boring. Did I mention I’m reading “Pledged To Him 8” by Neil Bimbeau? What woman would let me have such a life? Cuck, Harem, and more.

How many women do I know who would allow a harem? Well, there’s you, mistress… Have we gotten there yet? Is that something we could both be here for? Because what caused Sunday, August 24, 2025. I still don’t know.

Children? I want to be a father, you want to be a mother, and what comes next? B and V?

They get to be big brothers. Chihuahuas and all. Like Braxton, “You Are Not Here.”

Honestly? That’s what I tell myself every morning, and then I’m proven wrong. My sin?

“Too sexy for my love. Love’s going to leave me.” Yeah, that’s funny. If anything, I haven’t been here for all the days that I’ve mentioned. I haven’t left the exam table where Braxton died. I haven’t risen from the loveseat the first day I got Virgil, and gasped, “What have I done?” I haven’t left the bed since “the breakup.” Or the place where I was born. But I’m expected. Just B Here Virgil

1815 Days Without B III, Day 1256 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Tuesday, January 13, 2026

Journey 196 ~Virgil, There’ll B Times~

Dear Future Wife,
You know that I love you, right? And “The World Will Know!” The funny papers. A sex tape? New York Times Bestseller.

When I write one. Eventually. Can Erotica be considered? Did I ask that honestly, love?

If anything, I rather it be for one of B III’s books. 2-V’s? We’re way too early for that one. And what about my life story? I have to start living it—The Shawshank Redemption.

“Get busy livin’ or get busy dyin’.”
The Shawshank Redemption

Seriously, every day I tell myself I’m going to start, but I find myself right back here, minus my Braxton. And if Virgil isn’t here… Well, things I will do. That I will create, eww, but since he is here and I have you, my beautiful wife. Again, I find myself, like Cody Rhodes, asking, So, what do you want to talk about?” I have the time. Well, no, but I bought a “clock factory.”

“Pinch me, pinch me
‘Cause I’m still asleep
Please, God, tell me
That I’m still asleep.”
Barenaked Ladies ‧ 2000

I don’t think that’s what they mean by buying time. But there’s never time. Darling…

Why do you think I want to stay so busy? My hands look, love, and lose. And today I was looking at next week and the week after… “You know that’s a game that I hate to lose.” Love? And so I’ve been thinking more and more about what it would be like to “Drift Away.” Not this Saturday, but the next is the 24th, and after the 31st. It’s as if Sunday is trying to escape my wrath. And I’m telling myself that after the 24th (5th Month Anniversary), I’ll never speak on that subject again. And the 31st? I’m going to be crying about Braxton forever, my love.

It’s going to be a hard two weeks. “Pictures/Pussy On My Phone,” thank you, Wheeler Walker Jr. And my dear Braxton… That son of mine is bigger than my heart and other things… No wonder my heart was broken when he passed—effing time, beloved.

Memories. And no, I’m not a fan of CATS. I do mean the musical; the fur buddies are alright by me. And one day, I’ll have time, unless you’ve seen how MAGA has been acting lately. AI or Trump is going to kill us all. So again I look to my special drawer, my armory.

I want to protect my family—you, my woman, our wonderful children, and B’s work. I’m still alive. “Times Like These.” Virgil, There’ll B Times

1808 Days Without B III, Day 1249 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Tuesday, January 6, 2026

Journey 189 ~That’ll B WHITE Virgil~

Dear Future Wife,
You know that I love you, right? Is love still allowed in our country, My Love?” For more than white people. History.

Aren’t I all political, hmm? No, not really. I simply saw the date. And here I am up in our bed with you, sipping on an energy drink that reminds me of one of those canned drinks from the 80’s, to uh now. And did you know that MTV was deleted, discarded, or in other words, dead? America, America… I’m not opening up a shop in “Santa Fe,” mi amor.

RENT, really? I could talk about the love of my children, Braxton, Virgil, and all the two-legged crumb snatchers of ours. Eff, I miss Braxton! I’m keeping Virgil alive. Then there’s you, my love. Or am I lying? I have been having a particular TWD fantasy lately between The Governor, Maggie, and Negan. I swear…

“Pinch me, pinch me
‘Cause I’m still asleep
Please, God, tell me
That I’m still asleep.”
Barenaked Ladies ‧ 2000

Anything not to think about Sunday, August 24, 2025. Or worse fantasies about all of the women of The Walking Dead universe. I swear, as Queen Ramonda said in Black Panther: Wakanda Forever. “I think one day artificial intelligence is going to kill us all.” Not that I need to wait for it, like when I read about the Magic Glasses and augmenting reality, ha.

I’m only a “man,” a black man at that. And in America… Only I wasn’t worried about the cops today. I need to stop lying. Love, you have no idea, Nobody Knows It But Me.

“Being afraid all of the time.” Okay, so Lt. Reginald Barclay III knows. Seriously B?

Anyway, I was thinking about being ALONE, AUGUST, and ANXIETY.

“Never felt so lonely, then you came along,” as the song goes. Silent Hill? I’d love to see your hills right now… Uh, your Yabbos. In a blue suit with a red tie, wrapped in the transgenic flag, Heather from Silent Hill, Maggie Greene, etc. Please stop me, love, sigh.

Then I thought about you with someone else, and you know my CUCK fantasies, love. Well, I thought about August again, and suddenly I went all Alpha. You’re mine, beloved.

So I don’t feel like watching or sharing you? I’m a dominant, even a sadist at times, but no, love. I thought of you in your wedding dress, and January 24th, coming up soon, baby.

You in white? Braxton in Heaven? That’ll B WHITE Virgil

1801 Days Without B III, Day 1242 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Tuesday, December 30, 2025

Journey 182 ~Don’t B Hatin’ Virgil~

Dear Future Wife,
You know that I love you, right? More than my boys? Isn’t that always the question? Braxton was here before. Um, us…

As in “Physical.” I’m not Olivia Newton-John old. As in “passin’, passin’ away.” “The Crossroads? Bone Thugs-N-Harmony? Yeah, that’s more my speed. But the music?

Honestly, lover, it’s not blowing up the skies, the bullets flying, or my old bones cracking that I’m trying to block out right now. Well, more so December 31st… New Year’s Eve. The ticking of the damn clock. You know I almost said cock, ha! And I’m sure I said cuck today. But either at the old Day Job or my dream job. Either would fit. Am I right?

But I don’t want to talk about today. And never tomorrow. I want to write a letter this year. But I ain’t got time for that. No, sorry, my love.

“I fill my lungs with fear and I Exhale!”
It’s My Turn to Fly, The Urge ‧ 2000 (Titan A.E.)

And sadly, I hated the whole year. Hell, I have every day “documented.” But which day is the most hated? Why not loved? I love you, our children, and I am pretty fond of Virgil.

So no, I don’t hate him. And I’m sure he doesn’t hate me for not walking him today or catching the sunset. Did you feel how cold it was today? I should really know, love.

Yesterday, I left a comment about ICE and the Ninth Circle of Hell. They betray everyone, while I only betrayed my firstborn son. It’s about to be five years on January 31st, and I couldn’t save my Braxton. ACCEPTANCE isn’t in my vocabulary. But unfortunately, like MAGA and the Cracker Hats, there is always HATE.

And if I HATE one day out of this whole Braxton forsaken year, it’s honestly…

Sunday, August 24, 2025, at approximately 6:00 AM. It’s always a “Sunday Bloody Sunday,” my love. My “Endless Love.” I’m “Hopelessly Devoted To You.” Seriously?

Like I am every single year. Why? Because every one of them was supposed to be the last beloved. Ever since I was “Seventeen.” And you know I wish I’d been younger. I wish I’d never been… But I’m here—forty-one years, a harem, two furry boys. B does count.

But on that “Sunday Morning,” when you said what you said… Who’d I hate more? You, me, or even Braxton for making me stay to say goodbye to another year? Whatever. Don’t B Hatin’ Virgil.

1794 Days Without B III, Day 1235 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Tuesday, December 23, 2025

Journey 175 ~Braxton, Virgil, Find Santa~

Dear Future Wife,
You know that I love you, right? You found me. My boys found me first. And today, what did I find? Who?

Most days… Every day? As Wesley moaned in 2008’s “Wanted,” I don’t know who I am,” my love. And at the same time, since I’m quoting movies, it’s like 1993’s Demolition Man, “Isn’t there a thought repeating in that barbaric brain of yours… Don’t you have someone to k*ll?” I don’t know myself. And at the same time, I know exactly who I hate most.

Anxiety vs. Depression. Sweat vs. Blood. Braxton vs. Virgil. Coke vs. Pepsi. It goes on.
“And The Beat Goes On.” “The Whispers,” in my own effing head, my beloved. Madness.

And what does any of this have to do with Christmas? Honestly nothing. And Santa.

Love, “you don’t know how lovely you are.” And lucky or is that just me?

“I fill my lungs with fear and I Exhale!”
It’s My Turn to Fly, The Urge ‧ 2000 (Titan A.E.)

If the kids come running saying, “I saw Mommy kissing Santa Claus.” I’d want more.

And do you see how screwed up I am? I don’t know if I’m being cute, if I’d be doing more with my c*ck with you, or if I’m playing cuck and watching some jolly fat man with you, love. If I had a Christmas wish right this second, we’d be enjoying the Red/Black room…

Fifty Shades of Grey reference, amongst other things? And what are those things you ask?

Humiliations Galore! Boredom, the boys, and boxes of Christmas trees. Anything else has my eyes busting out of my skull. Boobies, blondes, brunettes, black hair. Hell, a buxom redhead, I am not picky. I’m easy to shop for. Magic Glasses…

Augmented realities, artificial intelligence, and amorality. Your husband’s an asshole. Like the song from Dennis Leary, I’m an “Asshole.” But a lucky one. Without pegging.

Eww! But I’m lucky. I got to play Santa for my two furry little boys. Or at least I tried, and I keep trying for B and V. But how old is Santa? Is he one of The Walking Dead?

Love, I could relate to him even more. But I’ll lie and play Santa for our kids. And I’m curious if you’re on the naughty or nice list. Even when I feel like… What? Nothing?

Because if I found Santa, I know what I’d ask for. It starts with D. Not my d*ck. A wish list? Braxton, Virgil, Find Santa

1787 Days Without B III, Day 1228 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Tuesday, December 16, 2025

Journey 168 ~Braxton’s Voice A V8~

Dear Future Wife,
You know that I love you, right? A lot more than some car or healthy drinks. What about Ma or my boys?

Happy Birthday to my Ma. I need to text her or something along those lines today. And as far as my boys? B’s quiet… Still in his box or playing on the Rainbow Bridge… Playing.

Honestly, knowing my firstborn son, he’s gobbling up vittles like an Amsterdam whore sucks dicks. Eww, seriously? Sorry, my love, I shouldn’t be reading Eric Vall on or near Christmas. Not that O. L. Tyme’s “His Christmas Miracle Harem” is helping. And it’s been three days, so I’m hot and horn as all Hell. I should just stay in bed with you. But that’s where Virgil is right now. Little 2-V, “I picture you in the sun, wondering what went wrong.” Am I talking to you or him? Don’t know…

“I fill my lungs with fear and I Exhale!”
It’s My Turn to Fly, The Urge ‧ 2000 (Titan A.E.)

And it’s like I’m not even speaking at all. To sing yet another song, I think I used to have a voice. Now I never make a sound.” If you’re keeping score, that’s “Every Day Is Exactly the Same” by NIN and Joseph Arthur’s “In The Sun.” It’s what I wish I could say… Well.

Sunday, August 24, 2025. Spill it out like “And I love you, I love you, I love you. Like never before.” But I’m no “Songbird.” And I’m definitely not Naya Rivera, may she rest in peace. See, I’m a lot nicer than the orange turd, MAGA’s leader, head Cracker Hat.

Always and forever FDT! And the naughty things I would like to do with Naya, 2-B, M Anime, and you…

I should shut the eff up. And as effed up as it seems, I wish I could go back to those days when Braxton first passed away. The silence when I didn’t give a damn about anything or anyone. The things I shouldn’t tell you. So I should be eating. Or on my knees… Prayer.

Nope. Even if you were Kesha, I’m not “Praying.” More like eating. Such a pervert.

Seriously, love, everything is too loud. Especially the voices in my head. And am I still thinking about some STUPID mobile game? Whiteout Survival? Then again, I’m still playing it. And there are so many things I should be doing. I “Can’t Keep Loving You (From A Distance). Love Is Louder! Braxton’s Voice A V8

1780 Days Without B III, Day 1221 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Tuesday, December 9, 2025

Journey 161 ~Braxton The Gifted, Virgil~

Dear Future Wife,
You know that I love you, right? More than Christmastime, ha! “Ooh, sugar pie, honey bunch. You know that I love you.”

‘Tis the season? What, you can love, get laid, and even lament on Christmas. Closer?

Honestly, “I Can’t Help Myself.” What, thinking about gifts for you, our two-legged children, and of course, there’s always Virgil and Braxton. I owe Braxton at least fifteen gifts—five birthdays, Christmases, and homecoming or Gotcha Day. I don’t remember when he hopped into the car, but I’ll never forget Sunday, January 31, 2021. Hell, maybe Gotcha Day could be May 1st. I’m sure I met B sometime in April. And how did I get on this when I’m supposed to be talking about the present? Well, my Christmas presents. Anyway, I THINK I want a breastplate like Maximus from “Gladiator.” But with a picture of both Braxton and Virgil.

“I fill my lungs with fear and I Exhale!”
It’s My Turn to Fly, The Urge ‧ 2000 (Titan A.E.)

And as I walked with Virgil this afternoon, I thought that I want a “monitor belt” or a watch from The Long Walk to measure my walking speed. More like my running speed since I’m “The Running Man,” and all. And that leads me to a question. Safe and sound.

When’s the last time I got something silly? Something salty, saucy, and spicy? In other words, delicious. Oh, I go to the food truck once a week. And stories, either in salacious words or on the big screen. And if it doesn’t suck, what about sexy? Well, I have you.

Somehow, someway, I got you. But I’m a selfish, STUPID, SOB… sorry, Ma. I want… Everything! “The World, Chico, And Everything In It.” That’s me.

And yet I call my firstborn, my B, gifted. He treated every day as a gift. He had all the gifts. And to him, I was the greatest gift of all. Do I give myself too much credit, my love?

Two points make a line. Three points make a pattern. Braxton loved/loves me. And I convinced you to do the same. Well, that was more of a choice… Um, Sunday, August 24, 2025. And what about V and our two-legged children? I’m Daddy, always, forever.

But you know what would be a present, what would make me a good person, what would complete a pattern? If I loved myself. “What I Go To School For?” Busted, because I failed. But Braxton? Braxton The Gifted, Virgil1773 Days Without B III, Day 1214 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Tuesday, December 2, 2025

Journey 154 ~Love B Later, Virgil~

Dear Future Wife,
You know that I love you, right? I love you. I’ll see you later. But do I ever say goodbye? I’m Irish…

As in an Irish Goodbye. I only say goodbye to one person. You’re looking at him. A “crazy” thought, right? What about a sad one… Or two. I remember saying goodbye to Braxton on his literal deathbed. And I don’t remember saying it at all on Sunday, August 24, 2025. Only Alanah Rae in My Wife’s Hot Friend Vol. 12 Big Boob Edition. My love.

You know me. I’m the effing Sherlock Holmes of Adult Films. And I’m feeling… Gross.

Always in the mood for you, my beloved, but icky. Stress Release? Whatever for love?

Are we getting married again? Are you pregnant? V is “Safe and Sound,” thanks, Taylor.

My love, this is my third business week and possibly my last. Last week was…

“I fill my lungs with fear and I Exhale!”
It’s My Turn to Fly, The Urge ‧ 2000 (Titan A.E.)

Excruciating, emasculating, and freaking effed. Do you remember our wedding day, my love? Ok, you have lots of reasons to be mad at me, but please hear me out. I’ll never be a Christian man, but I do subscribe to that Bible verse, “Love is patient, love is kind,” etc.

Love is not STUPID, honestly, that my love is one of my greatest fears. Being STUPID. Because STUPIDITY kills, it’s what triggers my anxiety. And I love you and our family. I tell Virgil later because one day I may love him, not like Braxton, but with no less love.

“It is remarkable how similar the pattern of love is to the pattern of insanity.”
The Merovingian, The Matrix Revolutions

“My will is stronger than my heart. Do you think I put so high a price on my feelings? They’ll pass. My will holds me to my course through life,”
Queen Guinevere, First Knight (1995)

Ahh! I understand how Guinevere felt about King Arthur in comparison to Lancelot in First Knight. I don’t love my work, but I say, “later.”

Or I don’t say anything at all. If you can’t say something nice and all that… But who do I say goodbye to? Me. And the thought that came over me today… Besides myself, eww!

Anyway, I thought about the times you had to do it. Again, like Lancelot asking Guinevere to forget who she was. When you covered your face with a veil, you were one woman, and when it was removed, you were my woman, my wife. You can be a monster… and I’m your “Savage,” thank you, Whethan. You’re strong, sexy, smart, and oh so sinful, lover.

However, with that, it takes only the thought of tomorrow, and I say goodbye to myself. Why? I’m Afraid! Always, Forever. Love B Later, Virgil.

1766 Days Without B III, Day 1207 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Tuesday, November 25, 2025

Journey 147 ~B’s An Option, Virgil~

Dear Future Wife,
You know that I love you, right? More than my Braxton? What about my bed? Whether I have a billion or bucks.

I’ve made my decision. Today was a disaster. And dammit, I’m up. Not like that…

Honestly, I want to go back to sleep… Permanently with everything that has happened today.

Where do I even begin? How did I become HIS father? My firstborn son, Braxton Barks Bradford. How did I become your husband? And how about his and hers? Children?

Again, I return to where our marriage started to show “options.” Sunday, August 24, 2025. Hell, it was before that, Sunday, January 31, 2021. In August, we lost ourselves. In January, I lost HIM… Braxton.

Braxton, my firstborn, “My Sweet Lord,” and my everything until… You. And I made the same promise. Always and forever. Forever and Always. Then there are days like this. “Mama said there’ll be days like…”

“I fill my lungs with fear and I Exhale!”
It’s My Turn to Fly, The Urge ‧ 2000 (Titan A.E.)

This? My mama wasn’t like “The Man” from Cormac McCarthy’s “The Road.” “I’m Thinking of Ending Things” is a movie title and not an idea that drones on and on. Winston Smith, weighing his options and knowing the inevitable conclusion. Like him, all I have to do is “transfer to paper the interminable restless monologue that had been running inside his(my) head, literally for years.” That was never an option for me, either, my “Sweet Love.” Loving my boy, well, boys with Virgil. Our children. You. And since I first wrote my name, the written word. The only option for me has been loving myself.

Somehow, today I find myself hating myself even more than usual. Is that possible? Always.

Why is that, you ask?

Ask yourself why you are still “Dear Future Wife,” and here I am, forty-one, somehow. No, not somehow, the truth of the matter is your husband is C for Coward, D for Deviant, and F for Failure—a and B? Archie, Virgil’s “first” name. Braxton, my Ma named him, ha!

And what about E? Enough? That’s what I’m contemplating right this second because of “Tomorrow.” As Salif Keita sings, I don’t understand it, but it’s going to be sad, love. Braxton always knows about “The Bad Place.” Virgil cries for me. And tomorrow no one will “Stand By Me.” Not for The Long Walk I must endure. I’ll be “The Running Man” for sure. Panic Attacks aren’t optional, Depression, Anxiety, FEAR… B’s An Option, Virgil.

1759 Days Without B III, Day 1200 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will