<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6479845268285996974</id><updated>2012-01-05T04:02:36.694-05:00</updated><title type='text'>True Husband Confessions</title><subtitle type='html'>A place for husbands, boyfriends and everyone else to let out their little secret, or just proclaim their love for someone.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://truehusbandconfessions.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6479845268285996974/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://truehusbandconfessions.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>John Deau</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11382610435580938230</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>36</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6479845268285996974.post-3311586198637264042</id><published>2008-10-21T12:37:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-10-21T12:38:37.441-05:00</updated><title type='text'>dear friends</title><content type='html'>It's been a while, I've switched jobs and haven't had much chance to do anything. On the downside, I've only received one secret to post, so nobody missed much.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On the vasectomy vs. fuck post, it's hard to calla winner yet.&lt;br /&gt;I've definitely gotten more, but the fights have come back too in a vengeance, so I'm not sure yet&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6479845268285996974-3311586198637264042?l=truehusbandconfessions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://truehusbandconfessions.blogspot.com/feeds/3311586198637264042/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6479845268285996974&amp;postID=3311586198637264042' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6479845268285996974/posts/default/3311586198637264042'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6479845268285996974/posts/default/3311586198637264042'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://truehusbandconfessions.blogspot.com/2008/10/dear-friends.html' title='dear friends'/><author><name>John Deau</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11382610435580938230</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6479845268285996974.post-1881415501111705894</id><published>2008-10-21T12:36:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2008-10-21T12:36:49.658-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I doubt I will ever tell you</title><content type='html'>But Friday night, my birthday, I cried myself to sleep.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6479845268285996974-1881415501111705894?l=truehusbandconfessions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://truehusbandconfessions.blogspot.com/feeds/1881415501111705894/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6479845268285996974&amp;postID=1881415501111705894' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6479845268285996974/posts/default/1881415501111705894'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6479845268285996974/posts/default/1881415501111705894'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://truehusbandconfessions.blogspot.com/2008/10/i-doubt-i-will-ever-tell-you.html' title='I doubt I will ever tell you'/><author><name>John Deau</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11382610435580938230</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6479845268285996974.post-1683241819866053337</id><published>2008-08-06T09:30:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-08-06T09:36:29.398-05:00</updated><title type='text'>update</title><content type='html'>I promised in the last post or so that I would keep sort of a running tally of the number of fucks versus the number of fights since my vasectomy reversal, and I have been negligent so far, so here goes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For a short (and might I add happy)  period of time it seemed that the fucks were out pacing the fights, in the first two weeks after the last post there were 3 fucks and only one fight. Unfortunately, but predictably, the fights have rallied and overcome their deficit. We are still at three fucks (so the quick math people here can tell I haven't been getting any in the past month or so) while the fights are now at 4.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And just for clarification, a simple argument or disagreement does not count as a fight. Those are far too common. For it to be counted as a fight it would have to involve, screaming, accusations (especially the one where she goes "you are just like your mother") and periods of prolonged silence (Oh blessed are they :P)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;John D'eau&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6479845268285996974-1683241819866053337?l=truehusbandconfessions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://truehusbandconfessions.blogspot.com/feeds/1683241819866053337/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6479845268285996974&amp;postID=1683241819866053337' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6479845268285996974/posts/default/1683241819866053337'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6479845268285996974/posts/default/1683241819866053337'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://truehusbandconfessions.blogspot.com/2008/08/update.html' title='update'/><author><name>John Deau</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11382610435580938230</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6479845268285996974.post-4333999966336459664</id><published>2008-06-19T07:34:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2008-06-19T07:36:09.462-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Fakesend.com</title><content type='html'>I received this email from the guy who runs Fakesend.com:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just wanted to drop you a note to let you know that I'll be bringing FakeSend.com back online.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Let me know if you'd like me to try and add any new features that would help your sites visitors out or something.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;I know its been pretty unreliable lately, but then again I've been pretty busy.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Thanks,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So hopefully it'll work better soon, and if there's something you, dear visitor, would like to see added there, let me know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;John&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6479845268285996974-4333999966336459664?l=truehusbandconfessions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://truehusbandconfessions.blogspot.com/feeds/4333999966336459664/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6479845268285996974&amp;postID=4333999966336459664' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6479845268285996974/posts/default/4333999966336459664'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6479845268285996974/posts/default/4333999966336459664'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://truehusbandconfessions.blogspot.com/2008/06/fakesendcom.html' title='Fakesend.com'/><author><name>John Deau</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11382610435580938230</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6479845268285996974.post-8148323637477502756</id><published>2008-06-17T09:03:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2008-06-20T07:11:57.693-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Let's keep tabs here.</title><content type='html'>This is a post from your faithful chronicler, John D'eau. :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had my vasectomy reversed a week ago because you really want another child after all, and hopefully this will also make you feel better about yourself and us.&lt;br /&gt;I think it won't make a difference.&lt;br /&gt;So I'm going to keep track of two key variables on this blog:&lt;br /&gt;- the number of times we have sex.&lt;br /&gt;- the number of fights we have.&lt;br /&gt;I predict that a year from now we'll have had more fights than fucks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I do like the shaved dick though, I think I'll keep it like that. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;John.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6479845268285996974-8148323637477502756?l=truehusbandconfessions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://truehusbandconfessions.blogspot.com/feeds/8148323637477502756/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6479845268285996974&amp;postID=8148323637477502756' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6479845268285996974/posts/default/8148323637477502756'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6479845268285996974/posts/default/8148323637477502756'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://truehusbandconfessions.blogspot.com/2008/06/lets-keep-tabs-here.html' title='Let&apos;s keep tabs here.'/><author><name>John Deau</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11382610435580938230</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6479845268285996974.post-3458922787055871028</id><published>2008-06-16T09:16:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2008-06-16T09:16:30.036-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Sex was good</title><content type='html'>But I wish it hadn't have been 5 months since the last time.&lt;br /&gt;Please can you try a bit harder to want to have sex with me. I have asked you numbers of times now if it is me but you keep telling me its not.&lt;br /&gt;When I joke about sex, even if its not aimed at you tell me its disgusting or wrong, I'm joking about thats all and there is nothing disgusting about sex.&lt;br /&gt;Please let the next time not be in 5 months time.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6479845268285996974-3458922787055871028?l=truehusbandconfessions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://truehusbandconfessions.blogspot.com/feeds/3458922787055871028/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6479845268285996974&amp;postID=3458922787055871028' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6479845268285996974/posts/default/3458922787055871028'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6479845268285996974/posts/default/3458922787055871028'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://truehusbandconfessions.blogspot.com/2008/06/sex-was-good.html' title='Sex was good'/><author><name>John Deau</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11382610435580938230</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6479845268285996974.post-4088703110099936250</id><published>2008-03-21T08:17:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-03-21T08:19:52.479-05:00</updated><title type='text'>We had S-E-X</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;I think this is one of those times where I received an emailed confession through an anon email service, and got it late. The original confessor must've rewritten it and send it again.&lt;br /&gt;John&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;even though it happened years ago, i still think about it from time to time with very mixed emotions.  I never filled you in on everything that happened between her and I, and I probably never will.  We fucked.  Hard.  Not just that day that we got caught together but several times before then and later after that time.  A complicated entanglement that started months before our marriage lasted well into the first year of it.  I never told you the whole truth because I didn't want to hurt you any more than I had to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I miss her. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love you and always will.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I miss her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think about her often and would jump at the chance to reconnect with her even if only for a clandestine hour or so of unbridled passion.  I would never share this fact with you because you wouldn't understand how I could want her and you both.  So as much as it eats me up, I keep quiet about it.  Sometimes when I'm silent you ask me what I'm thinking.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I usually lie because I'm thinking her.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6479845268285996974-4088703110099936250?l=truehusbandconfessions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://truehusbandconfessions.blogspot.com/feeds/4088703110099936250/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6479845268285996974&amp;postID=4088703110099936250' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6479845268285996974/posts/default/4088703110099936250'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6479845268285996974/posts/default/4088703110099936250'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://truehusbandconfessions.blogspot.com/2008/03/we-had-s-e-x_21.html' title='We had S-E-X'/><author><name>John Deau</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11382610435580938230</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6479845268285996974.post-1819062762223273699</id><published>2008-03-20T15:00:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-03-20T15:02:09.738-05:00</updated><title type='text'>fakesend emails</title><content type='html'>OK, I have just been told by a visitor that fakesend does not work anymore. I tested it, and true enough, they do not arrive. That might explain the emails I had regarding posts that were never made.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, I will look into finding another anonymous mailer to use.&lt;br /&gt;I really wish I knew how to make a post box like I've seen on some other sites, where any visitor can post directly to the blog. If anyone knows how to do that, please let me know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;John.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6479845268285996974-1819062762223273699?l=truehusbandconfessions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://truehusbandconfessions.blogspot.com/feeds/1819062762223273699/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6479845268285996974&amp;postID=1819062762223273699' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6479845268285996974/posts/default/1819062762223273699'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6479845268285996974/posts/default/1819062762223273699'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://truehusbandconfessions.blogspot.com/2008/03/fakesend-emails.html' title='fakesend emails'/><author><name>John Deau</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11382610435580938230</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6479845268285996974.post-2935589969647469754</id><published>2008-03-20T14:54:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-03-20T14:55:28.544-05:00</updated><title type='text'>we had S-E-X</title><content type='html'>I told you that it was only a one-time thing that didn't lead to&lt;br /&gt;anything more than some wandering hands and a lengthy kiss.  I said all&lt;br /&gt;that because I knew that much would hurt you and i didn't want to hurt&lt;br /&gt;you anymore than I already had.  Also I didn't want you to leave, and I&lt;br /&gt;feared that you might.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She and I fucked.  Hard.  Heavy fucked.  Not just that time either.  That&lt;br /&gt;was the time we got caught.  The entanglement started months before that&lt;br /&gt;and went on well into the first year of our marriage before it fizzled out.&lt;br /&gt; I really miss her still even though that was several years ago.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't regret it, but somehow I regret not regretting it if that makes&lt;br /&gt;sense.  I wish we hadn't been caught that day.  Sometimes i wish you&lt;br /&gt;knew the whole story.  Most of the time though, I'm glad you don't.&lt;br /&gt;Real glad.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6479845268285996974-2935589969647469754?l=truehusbandconfessions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://truehusbandconfessions.blogspot.com/feeds/2935589969647469754/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6479845268285996974&amp;postID=2935589969647469754' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6479845268285996974/posts/default/2935589969647469754'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6479845268285996974/posts/default/2935589969647469754'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://truehusbandconfessions.blogspot.com/2008/03/we-had-s-e-x.html' title='we had S-E-X'/><author><name>John Deau</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11382610435580938230</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6479845268285996974.post-4631245363164983770</id><published>2008-03-10T08:35:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-03-10T08:36:09.408-05:00</updated><title type='text'>A confession</title><content type='html'>Ok, honey, its time to come clean. I can't do that to your face, so&lt;br /&gt;I'm doing it here.&lt;br /&gt;You know that video tape we have, the one that has parts of our honeymoon&lt;br /&gt;and other times of us banging? I showed it to my buddies. Yep. All of them.&lt;br /&gt;They agree with me, too. You have a nice ass, and the nips are perfect. But&lt;br /&gt;you could show a lot more enthusiasm when you suck it. Also, just so I’ve&lt;br /&gt;put it all out here, I told them they could try you out, if they can talk&lt;br /&gt;you into it. They have a $100 bet going who will be the first to yank your&lt;br /&gt;panties off.&lt;br /&gt;I can’t wait to see THAT video.&lt;br /&gt;Love ya!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6479845268285996974-4631245363164983770?l=truehusbandconfessions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://truehusbandconfessions.blogspot.com/feeds/4631245363164983770/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6479845268285996974&amp;postID=4631245363164983770' title='11 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6479845268285996974/posts/default/4631245363164983770'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6479845268285996974/posts/default/4631245363164983770'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://truehusbandconfessions.blogspot.com/2008/03/confession.html' title='A confession'/><author><name>John Deau</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11382610435580938230</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>11</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6479845268285996974.post-8714263873463220328</id><published>2008-03-10T08:32:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-03-10T08:35:11.249-05:00</updated><title type='text'>it's been a while</title><content type='html'>I have not received too many confessions just yet, although they do trickle in. Visitors keep coming, so that is a good sign, just need more people to tell me their dirty little secrets.&lt;br /&gt;I have received an email from someone asking me why I never put up a confession they sent in, to which I replied I never received one. Rest assured, I will put up any and all confessions that I receive, unless they are confessions of something that is clearly against the law.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;John D'eau&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6479845268285996974-8714263873463220328?l=truehusbandconfessions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://truehusbandconfessions.blogspot.com/feeds/8714263873463220328/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6479845268285996974&amp;postID=8714263873463220328' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6479845268285996974/posts/default/8714263873463220328'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6479845268285996974/posts/default/8714263873463220328'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://truehusbandconfessions.blogspot.com/2008/03/its-been-while.html' title='it&apos;s been a while'/><author><name>John Deau</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11382610435580938230</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6479845268285996974.post-1970938546772182379</id><published>2008-02-21T08:38:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2008-02-21T08:38:46.768-05:00</updated><title type='text'>A confession</title><content type='html'>So I know I told you I hate Valentine's Day, and I do. But&lt;br /&gt;I made you a card and a CD with cheesy songs on it. You said&lt;br /&gt;it made you cry and that you keep it under your pillow. How&lt;br /&gt;sweet. But why couldn't you get me a card? Or even a single&lt;br /&gt;sentence on a Post-It note? I guess I don't mean much to you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I know why you don't want certain people to know we're&lt;br /&gt;seeing each other. I understand. But why do you go to such&lt;br /&gt;lengths to hide us from &amp;*everyone* else in the world? It&lt;br /&gt;makes me feel like you're ashamed of me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You came over to my hose the other week after D. asked you&lt;br /&gt;to marry him again. If you have no intention of doing so,&lt;br /&gt;why did you keep the ring? You told *him* that you would&lt;br /&gt;"think about it," but you told me there is no way you'd ever&lt;br /&gt;marry him. I used to think you were lying to him, but now I&lt;br /&gt;wonder if it's not me that is being lied to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you're not feeling it for me, that's cool. But why string&lt;br /&gt;me along? I don't understand you, and I don't think that I&lt;br /&gt;ever will. Our mutual friend that you had the big&lt;br /&gt;"misunderstanding" with? She says she wants to slap you&lt;br /&gt;because you're being so mean to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I happen to know that you won't be able to go to my&lt;br /&gt;birthday party. I wonder when you'll bother to tell me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know you're life is not easy. I know you face a lot of&lt;br /&gt;challenges. I know that it really, truly sucks to be you&lt;br /&gt;sometimes. I wish I could help you, I wish I could fix things&lt;br /&gt;for you. But I can't. You're the only one who can.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love you. I want you to be happy because you deserve it.&lt;br /&gt;But I deserve it too. If you don't want me, if you can't&lt;br /&gt;respect me, if you can't appreciate me... just let me go.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll live.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6479845268285996974-1970938546772182379?l=truehusbandconfessions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://truehusbandconfessions.blogspot.com/feeds/1970938546772182379/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6479845268285996974&amp;postID=1970938546772182379' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6479845268285996974/posts/default/1970938546772182379'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6479845268285996974/posts/default/1970938546772182379'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://truehusbandconfessions.blogspot.com/2008/02/confession.html' title='A confession'/><author><name>John Deau</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11382610435580938230</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6479845268285996974.post-6415685846668405129</id><published>2007-12-07T09:14:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2007-12-07T09:14:59.481-05:00</updated><title type='text'>It's been hard I know</title><content type='html'>but I really would like us to see someone about the lack of sex in our life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Its been three/fours years now since we had a proper sex life and I don't thinkI can cope anymore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everytime I suggest we go you point blank refuse. Thank you for saying you will read the book I brought, but in the back of my mind I don't think you will actually read it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The reason I want our sex life back is I am scared I will go and do something stupid with another girl. I have been having text conversations with a girl that I know and they have become very hot, I know that neither of us would get together but I am worried if I meet someone else when out on a weekend and things.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The trouble with the text's is that they get me so wound up that I want to ravish you when I get home from work, but I get no response from you or you tell me to stop it, hell I don't even get proper kisses from you and this is effecting me now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I miss out closeness and touching and hugging etc but I love you with my whole heart that I want us to sort this out before anything stupid can happen.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6479845268285996974-6415685846668405129?l=truehusbandconfessions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://truehusbandconfessions.blogspot.com/feeds/6415685846668405129/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6479845268285996974&amp;postID=6415685846668405129' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6479845268285996974/posts/default/6415685846668405129'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6479845268285996974/posts/default/6415685846668405129'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://truehusbandconfessions.blogspot.com/2007/12/its-been-hard-i-know.html' title='It&apos;s been hard I know'/><author><name>John Deau</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11382610435580938230</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6479845268285996974.post-6793569280157042203</id><published>2007-10-15T08:34:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-10-15T08:35:55.538-05:00</updated><title type='text'>What Happened the Day Before our Wedding</title><content type='html'>The day before the wedding, just before the bachelor party, I was&lt;br /&gt;approached by Cherry, the minister\\\'s wife... She asked me to follow her&lt;br /&gt;to the guest room.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Once there, she grabbed me by the belt pulled me over and told me she&lt;br /&gt;wanted me to fuck her... By this time her hand went from my belt to my cock&lt;br /&gt;and we started kissing. I threw her on the bed and turned her over on her&lt;br /&gt;hands and knees.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It\\\'s not hard to imagine what happened from there... the only unforeseen&lt;br /&gt;problem from all of this... she is pregnant and we don\\\'t know which of&lt;br /&gt;us is the father!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The timing is right but we won\\\'t know until the baby is born and I can&lt;br /&gt;sneak off for a DNA test... this is proof that sin begets sin...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6479845268285996974-6793569280157042203?l=truehusbandconfessions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://truehusbandconfessions.blogspot.com/feeds/6793569280157042203/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6479845268285996974&amp;postID=6793569280157042203' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6479845268285996974/posts/default/6793569280157042203'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6479845268285996974/posts/default/6793569280157042203'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://truehusbandconfessions.blogspot.com/2007/10/what-happened-day-before-our-wedding.html' title='What Happened the Day Before our Wedding'/><author><name>John Deau</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11382610435580938230</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6479845268285996974.post-8090234369725594808</id><published>2007-10-11T09:42:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-10-11T09:43:34.490-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I don't think you know this</title><content type='html'>but when I get you a cold drink I sometimes drop my penis in it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why do i do this, just so i can smile to myself, sad i know.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6479845268285996974-8090234369725594808?l=truehusbandconfessions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://truehusbandconfessions.blogspot.com/feeds/8090234369725594808/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6479845268285996974&amp;postID=8090234369725594808' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6479845268285996974/posts/default/8090234369725594808'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6479845268285996974/posts/default/8090234369725594808'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://truehusbandconfessions.blogspot.com/2007/10/i-dont-think-you-know-this.html' title='I don&apos;t think you know this'/><author><name>John Deau</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11382610435580938230</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6479845268285996974.post-2263372075378671263</id><published>2007-09-24T13:55:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-09-24T13:56:41.882-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Fakesend.com is back</title><content type='html'>Just got an email from the owner of www.Fakesend.com that the site is back after some issues have been resolved. &lt;br /&gt;So at least one service for sending your confessions anonymously is back up and running!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;John Deau&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6479845268285996974-2263372075378671263?l=truehusbandconfessions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://truehusbandconfessions.blogspot.com/feeds/2263372075378671263/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6479845268285996974&amp;postID=2263372075378671263' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6479845268285996974/posts/default/2263372075378671263'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6479845268285996974/posts/default/2263372075378671263'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://truehusbandconfessions.blogspot.com/2007/09/fakesendcom-is-back.html' title='Fakesend.com is back'/><author><name>John Deau</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11382610435580938230</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6479845268285996974.post-2096894460312554541</id><published>2007-09-24T09:36:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2007-09-24T09:36:16.044-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I don't think</title><content type='html'>I can do it anymore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When we moved out of the flat we thought things would get better between us but they haven't. You tell me we are not a couple but yet you will want me to be there to pick you up form work, put the sheets on your bed and massage you etc etc.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What do I get in return, not much, yes I know you look after our son during the week when he is not at pre school but that's all you do, the housework is mainly left to me, weekends I have our son as you work every Sunday and two Saturdays a week. I am going to be changing the weekend habits and instead of me having to clean the house do the washing etc I am going to start taking our son on long day trips, where I don't know yet but that really doesn't matter, I hate having to be your lift or be at home for you/with you. you are the one that tells me we are not together anymore yet I still feel like we are and when I try to kiss you and take it further I get shot down in flames. You said that when you got the new place things would improve, in the house and the bedroom, they haven't, we have had sex once since we have moved in and that was a month ago and before that was another 6 weeks. I need sex and I want it with you but nothing happens.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have realised that we will not be getting back together but I don't think you have. You need to and fast as I cannot do this any more.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6479845268285996974-2096894460312554541?l=truehusbandconfessions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://truehusbandconfessions.blogspot.com/feeds/2096894460312554541/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6479845268285996974&amp;postID=2096894460312554541' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6479845268285996974/posts/default/2096894460312554541'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6479845268285996974/posts/default/2096894460312554541'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://truehusbandconfessions.blogspot.com/2007/09/i-dont-think.html' title='I don&apos;t think'/><author><name>John Deau</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11382610435580938230</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6479845268285996974.post-4725379791563619411</id><published>2007-08-20T10:28:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-08-20T10:33:51.362-05:00</updated><title type='text'>My Confession</title><content type='html'>I don’t know when it actually started. I started suspecting something about 2 years ago. You warned me about the lack of sex. I can’t remember when you stopped pestering me about it. I realize that is about the time your behavior changed. Perhaps you met him at that time. You changed everything about yourself. You know I actually am attracted to you much more now. You lost weight, changed you hair, bought a new car and added to you wardrobe. You’re actually very pretty, confident and sexy now. But you're out of reach for me. I fantasize a lot about you now, much more than ever before. I didn’t realize what I had.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Because you’re with him I hope he is a better lover than I was. I actually let you have your time with him. The weekend trips with your girlfriends, your business travel; I really know who you’re secretly meeting with. In case you didn’t realize it is getting more frequent, more bold. The kids miss you very much. I miss you too. But you are a much better person to be around. We don’t fight like we used to. I hope you are happy with him. I hope he fulfills your desires and deepest dreams. You know I work my ass off to give this to you. I know that you could never admit to how content you are.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Someday I’ll lose the weight and take care of myself a little more. I hope you could find the love with me again. I hope that you love me now. Not as a lover but as a caretaker to your household. In the mean time I’ll just be content on pleasing myself while you get it like you want.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6479845268285996974-4725379791563619411?l=truehusbandconfessions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://truehusbandconfessions.blogspot.com/feeds/4725379791563619411/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6479845268285996974&amp;postID=4725379791563619411' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6479845268285996974/posts/default/4725379791563619411'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6479845268285996974/posts/default/4725379791563619411'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://truehusbandconfessions.blogspot.com/2007/08/my-confession.html' title='My Confession'/><author><name>John Deau</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11382610435580938230</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6479845268285996974.post-8640092458196637549</id><published>2007-08-06T10:05:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-08-06T10:26:10.521-05:00</updated><title type='text'>no updates..</title><content type='html'>So I guess I'm writing a little update myself, since I'm not exactly flooded with submissions :)&lt;br /&gt;I do realize that men are simply not as likely to write in their problems as women are, but I had hoped for a little bit more response. I do get a decent amount of visitors, but the only way to increase my readership, and therefor your audience, is to have more posts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So here is one of my own:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We've been doing a small remodeling in our house, and my wife repeatedly looks for confirmation that we work well together. Truth be told, if she was one of my staff, I'd have a hard time keeping her on, since she does not pull her weight, yet has no problems criticizing the work of others (Read: me). I should tell her that, but I feel bad bursting her bubble.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6479845268285996974-8640092458196637549?l=truehusbandconfessions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://truehusbandconfessions.blogspot.com/feeds/8640092458196637549/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6479845268285996974&amp;postID=8640092458196637549' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6479845268285996974/posts/default/8640092458196637549'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6479845268285996974/posts/default/8640092458196637549'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://truehusbandconfessions.blogspot.com/2007/08/no-updates.html' title='no updates..'/><author><name>John Deau</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11382610435580938230</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6479845268285996974.post-2623737605680537793</id><published>2007-07-16T08:12:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2007-07-16T08:12:36.062-05:00</updated><title type='text'>A confession</title><content type='html'>Dear Wife,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Our divorce hearing was four weeks ago which means we have another four weeks until it becomes final. I do have regrets, of course I do an you've told me you do as well. but I'm really glad we've managed to put the anger aside for the sake of our kids and I will absolutely hold up my end of the bargain with regards to support for them and you as I have been doing for the last three years since we split. I'm glad we're friends, or we seem to be friends, and you accept my help and advice that I offer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm glad I wasn't there for the birth of your new baby girl. The thought of going through as your birth partner made me feel ill to be honest but I'd never have told you and if you'd called I'd have been there. I'm sorry it didn't work out with the baby's father I truly am but my new job will mean you get more support and I'm sure that'll be welcome. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As you know, I've met someone. And she's fantastic. She makes me feel like I've never felt before. Yes, even though we were together for 13 years, it's not the same. We married because we got pregnant, but with this girl, I want to marry her and be hers for the rest of my life. Whe fills me up. She's great with our kids, has no bad habits and adores our daughter, only having sons of her own. She wants me to move in with her and we've talked about marriage already. We wont have any more kids, I don't want to distract from my two with you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I really want your blessing in this and I know I've talked to you about this girl, I've been a little dishonest about how serious I am. I wish there was a good time to talk about this. I want our kids at the wedding, if it happens, and I'd love for you to be there too. You were always my best friend.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6479845268285996974-2623737605680537793?l=truehusbandconfessions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://truehusbandconfessions.blogspot.com/feeds/2623737605680537793/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6479845268285996974&amp;postID=2623737605680537793' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6479845268285996974/posts/default/2623737605680537793'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6479845268285996974/posts/default/2623737605680537793'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://truehusbandconfessions.blogspot.com/2007/07/confession.html' title='A confession'/><author><name>John Deau</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11382610435580938230</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6479845268285996974.post-8878158919295154971</id><published>2007-06-12T08:12:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-06-12T08:14:16.199-05:00</updated><title type='text'>underwear</title><content type='html'>Sometimes when you are out, I put on your underwear. Mostly the tight fitting ones, but also your thongs. it makes me horny.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6479845268285996974-8878158919295154971?l=truehusbandconfessions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://truehusbandconfessions.blogspot.com/feeds/8878158919295154971/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6479845268285996974&amp;postID=8878158919295154971' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6479845268285996974/posts/default/8878158919295154971'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6479845268285996974/posts/default/8878158919295154971'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://truehusbandconfessions.blogspot.com/2007/06/underwear.html' title='underwear'/><author><name>John Deau</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11382610435580938230</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6479845268285996974.post-662093922521671108</id><published>2007-06-12T08:06:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2007-06-12T08:06:33.177-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I hope you fell better soon</title><content type='html'>as when your ill everyone knows about it, I know you get frustrated with yourself because you can't do anything but please don't shout and moan at me about it. I will help you as much as I can but I do get tired to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love you loads though and can't wait till you are well again&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6479845268285996974-662093922521671108?l=truehusbandconfessions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://truehusbandconfessions.blogspot.com/feeds/662093922521671108/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6479845268285996974&amp;postID=662093922521671108' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6479845268285996974/posts/default/662093922521671108'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6479845268285996974/posts/default/662093922521671108'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://truehusbandconfessions.blogspot.com/2007/06/i-hope-you-fell-better-soon.html' title='I hope you fell better soon'/><author><name>John Deau</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11382610435580938230</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6479845268285996974.post-4822354302306234957</id><published>2007-06-04T08:11:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2007-06-04T08:11:28.600-05:00</updated><title type='text'>It's over</title><content type='html'>That's what I want to tell you but I can't.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I still love you but it is so hard for me to live with you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6479845268285996974-4822354302306234957?l=truehusbandconfessions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://truehusbandconfessions.blogspot.com/feeds/4822354302306234957/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6479845268285996974&amp;postID=4822354302306234957' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6479845268285996974/posts/default/4822354302306234957'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6479845268285996974/posts/default/4822354302306234957'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://truehusbandconfessions.blogspot.com/2007/06/its-over.html' title='It&apos;s over'/><author><name>John Deau</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11382610435580938230</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6479845268285996974.post-8434183199696633633</id><published>2007-05-31T10:46:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-05-31T10:47:15.265-05:00</updated><title type='text'>no title</title><content type='html'>I really only love one of our kids.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6479845268285996974-8434183199696633633?l=truehusbandconfessions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://truehusbandconfessions.blogspot.com/feeds/8434183199696633633/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6479845268285996974&amp;postID=8434183199696633633' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6479845268285996974/posts/default/8434183199696633633'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6479845268285996974/posts/default/8434183199696633633'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://truehusbandconfessions.blogspot.com/2007/05/no-title.html' title='no title'/><author><name>John Deau</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11382610435580938230</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6479845268285996974.post-2132712318923055891</id><published>2007-05-24T07:31:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-05-24T07:32:09.233-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Whilst away</title><content type='html'>I smoked a few joints and they were great.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It really annoys me that whenever i try to smoke one whenever your around you get on your high horse.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I would never do it in front of our son or be in a state where he would be in harms way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Grow up&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6479845268285996974-2132712318923055891?l=truehusbandconfessions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://truehusbandconfessions.blogspot.com/feeds/2132712318923055891/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6479845268285996974&amp;postID=2132712318923055891' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6479845268285996974/posts/default/2132712318923055891'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6479845268285996974/posts/default/2132712318923055891'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://truehusbandconfessions.blogspot.com/2007/05/whilst-away.html' title='Whilst away'/><author><name>John Deau</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11382610435580938230</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6479845268285996974.post-4665285966485993536</id><published>2007-05-24T07:29:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-05-24T07:31:41.660-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Games</title><content type='html'>I know you think it's silly and childish of me to still enjoy playing computer games, but why can't you just let it be? It's my outlet, it does not harm anyone, and other than that, I'm not your prototypical basement geek. I don't need to  hear you go off every time about how dumb they are. You don't like them, fine, don't play.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6479845268285996974-4665285966485993536?l=truehusbandconfessions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://truehusbandconfessions.blogspot.com/feeds/4665285966485993536/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6479845268285996974&amp;postID=4665285966485993536' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6479845268285996974/posts/default/4665285966485993536'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6479845268285996974/posts/default/4665285966485993536'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://truehusbandconfessions.blogspot.com/2007/05/games.html' title='Games'/><author><name>John Deau</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11382610435580938230</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6479845268285996974.post-1257586422077259337</id><published>2007-05-15T09:47:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-05-15T09:48:07.272-05:00</updated><title type='text'>cheater</title><content type='html'>I'm pretty sure my wife has an affair, and that knowledge doesn't even bother me that much. After all, I've been actively looking for someone to cheat on her with, so I can't blame her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What fucking irks me though is that she has always had that holier than thou attitude, accusing me of cheating on her while I hadn't done a thing (yet), treating me as if I had cheated. The "if you ever cheat on me I'll still stay with you" line, hoping I'd confess to something I hadn't done, and now she is fucking around behind my back.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6479845268285996974-1257586422077259337?l=truehusbandconfessions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://truehusbandconfessions.blogspot.com/feeds/1257586422077259337/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6479845268285996974&amp;postID=1257586422077259337' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6479845268285996974/posts/default/1257586422077259337'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6479845268285996974/posts/default/1257586422077259337'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://truehusbandconfessions.blogspot.com/2007/05/cheater.html' title='cheater'/><author><name>John Deau</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11382610435580938230</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6479845268285996974.post-7340179906434422519</id><published>2007-05-10T08:13:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-05-10T08:15:48.608-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I really</title><content type='html'>don't want another child.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Our son is three years old and will be going to school on two years time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This means you can then go out and get a full time job and I won't have to struggle paying the bills and can enjoy myself and us as a family more.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know that you have a part time job but that pays for your things and some of our sons&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6479845268285996974-7340179906434422519?l=truehusbandconfessions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://truehusbandconfessions.blogspot.com/feeds/7340179906434422519/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6479845268285996974&amp;postID=7340179906434422519' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6479845268285996974/posts/default/7340179906434422519'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6479845268285996974/posts/default/7340179906434422519'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://truehusbandconfessions.blogspot.com/2007/05/i-really.html' title='I really'/><author><name>John Deau</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11382610435580938230</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6479845268285996974.post-78319960236835658</id><published>2007-05-08T09:06:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-05-08T09:10:15.591-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Mistakes</title><content type='html'>Marrying you was a big mistake, I shouldn't have done it. Like you always used to say, we live like roommates, not husband and wife. We coexist, that's it. It is the typical situation too, decided to get married, got pregnant way too quick, and now I can't even leave you, since I would never see my kids again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's not that I don't like you, I or dislike you really. I just have no feelings left for you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wish I was strong enough to leave you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6479845268285996974-78319960236835658?l=truehusbandconfessions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://truehusbandconfessions.blogspot.com/feeds/78319960236835658/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6479845268285996974&amp;postID=78319960236835658' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6479845268285996974/posts/default/78319960236835658'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6479845268285996974/posts/default/78319960236835658'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://truehusbandconfessions.blogspot.com/2007/05/mistakes.html' title='Mistakes'/><author><name>John Deau</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11382610435580938230</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6479845268285996974.post-1812559078002828839</id><published>2007-04-27T17:06:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-04-27T17:08:35.156-05:00</updated><title type='text'>yes</title><content type='html'>your ass does look fat in that outfit. As a matter of fact, it looks fat in just about any outfit you own. That's because you haven't done anything to stay in shape in a long time now.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6479845268285996974-1812559078002828839?l=truehusbandconfessions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://truehusbandconfessions.blogspot.com/feeds/1812559078002828839/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6479845268285996974&amp;postID=1812559078002828839' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6479845268285996974/posts/default/1812559078002828839'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6479845268285996974/posts/default/1812559078002828839'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://truehusbandconfessions.blogspot.com/2007/04/yes.html' title='yes'/><author><name>John Deau</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11382610435580938230</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6479845268285996974.post-1226949667747842700</id><published>2007-04-25T08:43:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-04-25T08:44:35.481-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Please Please</title><content type='html'>will you go on contraceptive the pill/injection.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know we don't have sex often but when we do I would like it to be spontaneous and not have to rummaged around the house looking for a condom.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hate using them but i will continue to until you are ready to do the above.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lot of love me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PS Last night was great&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6479845268285996974-1226949667747842700?l=truehusbandconfessions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://truehusbandconfessions.blogspot.com/feeds/1226949667747842700/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6479845268285996974&amp;postID=1226949667747842700' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6479845268285996974/posts/default/1226949667747842700'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6479845268285996974/posts/default/1226949667747842700'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://truehusbandconfessions.blogspot.com/2007/04/please-please.html' title='Please Please'/><author><name>John Deau</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11382610435580938230</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6479845268285996974.post-6603815459728914222</id><published>2007-04-24T08:06:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-04-24T08:12:25.973-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The first new confession!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size: larger;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;I love you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;and i know that i am not the best bf, but there are a lot worse out there in the world, but when we first met we used to have a great sex life. Once we found out you were pregnant all those years ago the sex has stopped, well has gone from a river to a trickle, we maybe will have sex once maybe twice a month, when we first met it was all the time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I understand that looking after our son can take it out of you but when the weekends come I do and try and take most of the pressure off you. When i come home from work, sometimes I will cook and then put our son to bed, but I hardly get a response from you as you are glued to the telly. The other night when we cuddled on the sofa like old times felt great and i know when we go to bed you don't like me cuddling up to you but at least give me a cuddle.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lots of love me&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6479845268285996974-6603815459728914222?l=truehusbandconfessions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://truehusbandconfessions.blogspot.com/feeds/6603815459728914222/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6479845268285996974&amp;postID=6603815459728914222' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6479845268285996974/posts/default/6603815459728914222'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6479845268285996974/posts/default/6603815459728914222'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://truehusbandconfessions.blogspot.com/2007/04/first-new-confession.html' title='The first new confession!'/><author><name>John Deau</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11382610435580938230</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6479845268285996974.post-3359974333252392480</id><published>2007-04-24T07:54:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-05-15T15:38:28.273-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Anonymity</title><content type='html'>I have been trying to come up with the easiest way for anyone to get their message onto this blog without losing their anonymity, which I understand can be a serious concern. I've seen blogs with bits of code &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;that'll&lt;/span&gt; let you auto post to the blog,, and the original version of this blog had something similar. However, that led to the blog being quickly overrun with spam in the simplest version, and way too much coding knowledge required to make it spam-safe.&lt;br /&gt;Emailing me directly might pose a problem too, since not everyone has a Yahoo/&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Hotmail&lt;/span&gt;/Gmail account that's not somewhat personalized. And setting up a new email address just to post a confession might be a step too much for some people.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So far Fakesend is not back yet, here is another one:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.gilc.org/speech/anonymous/remailer.html" target="_blank"&gt;link&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Enter &lt;a href="http://fakesend.com/" target="_blank"&gt;www.&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;fakesend&lt;/span&gt;.com&lt;/a&gt;. Originally set up as a site to send prank emails from, I figured it would serve great for my purpose. It'll let you type an email and fill in any email address as the sender. That way me, nor anyone else, will be able to tell where the email came from. The only thing that took me a second was to find the 'send' button. To send, type the 6 characters shown (to prove your at least halfway human and can read :) ), then click on the line below it that reads '&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);"&gt;send that fake email!&lt;/span&gt;' That is all there is to it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.gilc.org/speech/anonymous/remailer.html"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="text-decoration: underline;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;John.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6479845268285996974-3359974333252392480?l=truehusbandconfessions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://truehusbandconfessions.blogspot.com/feeds/3359974333252392480/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6479845268285996974&amp;postID=3359974333252392480' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6479845268285996974/posts/default/3359974333252392480'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6479845268285996974/posts/default/3359974333252392480'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://truehusbandconfessions.blogspot.com/2007/04/anonymity.html' title='Anonymity'/><author><name>John Deau</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11382610435580938230</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6479845268285996974.post-2756938281290781403</id><published>2007-04-20T10:05:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-04-20T10:06:37.043-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Some visitors</title><content type='html'>I realize it'll be a while before people realize this blog is live again. So far I've gotten a few visitors from some of the blogs this was originally linked from, I'm hoping for me soon.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6479845268285996974-2756938281290781403?l=truehusbandconfessions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://truehusbandconfessions.blogspot.com/feeds/2756938281290781403/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6479845268285996974&amp;postID=2756938281290781403' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6479845268285996974/posts/default/2756938281290781403'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6479845268285996974/posts/default/2756938281290781403'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://truehusbandconfessions.blogspot.com/2007/04/some-visitors.html' title='Some visitors'/><author><name>John Deau</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11382610435580938230</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6479845268285996974.post-7013134713149725184</id><published>2007-04-16T12:45:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2007-04-17T13:05:15.785-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Breathe, dammit, breathe!</title><content type='html'>I came across the true wife confessions blog, and, being male, decided to check out it's male counterpart. Much to my surprise it did not exist any more.&lt;br /&gt;Google's cache revealed the last contents, which I will  be reposting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I decided to give True Husband Confessions another try, get life back into it, if only because I think we men, whether 'just friends', boyfriends or husbands, deserve a place to vent too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm not much of an accomplished writer myself, so I'm going to stick with what other people email me at &lt;span class="login"&gt;truehusbandconfessions@gmail.com. I'll try and post confessions as I get them, and anyone is free to comment of course.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hope this will become a success.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6479845268285996974-7013134713149725184?l=truehusbandconfessions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://truehusbandconfessions.blogspot.com/feeds/7013134713149725184/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6479845268285996974&amp;postID=7013134713149725184' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6479845268285996974/posts/default/7013134713149725184'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6479845268285996974/posts/default/7013134713149725184'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://truehusbandconfessions.blogspot.com/2007/04/breathe-damnit-breathe_16.html' title='Breathe, dammit, breathe!'/><author><name>John Deau</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11382610435580938230</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6479845268285996974.post-6097744215511124125</id><published>2007-04-16T11:55:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-04-16T12:54:35.192-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Older posts</title><content type='html'>&lt;h3 class="post-title"&gt;      its only a dream        &lt;/h3&gt;                          &lt;pre&gt;how could you do this to me...&lt;/pre&gt;&lt;pre&gt;you are-were my dream girl...&lt;/pre&gt;&lt;pre&gt;6 children-find out one for sure not mine....&lt;/pre&gt;&lt;pre&gt;how many others..? &lt;/pre&gt;&lt;pre&gt;I love you but I hate you  too!!!! &lt;/pre&gt;&lt;pre&gt;Can we ever get over this??? &lt;/pre&gt;&lt;pre&gt;You suddenly want your freedom-24 yrs of marriage-&lt;/pre&gt;&lt;pre&gt;its almost our fuckin silver anniversary!!&lt;/pre&gt;&lt;pre&gt;s s&lt;br /&gt;=============================================================================&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/pre&gt;&lt;h3 class="post-title"&gt;      Damaged goods        &lt;/h3&gt;                          I always thought you were the kind of woman that was comfortable with sex. That's the way you always came across when we were dating. I figured your reluctance to do anything remotely different was due to the abuse you suffered at the hands of your ex-husband. I gave you plenty of space and never pushed. I figured when you were comfortable enough, the real you that you described would come back out at some point to play.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now that we've been married over 10 years, you don't even want sex any more, I've finally realized that you were just another jaded, damaged woman who never will be "right" again. There always some excuse to not meet my needs. I think you just married me because I was a good man and you didn't want to be alone as you got older.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I went to look in the drawer today where we keep all the sex-related clothes, toys, and such. I had bought you a number of sexy panty hose, underwear, bras, and the like because you would look great in it. When they arrived, you asked me what was in the box. So I showed you and excitedly told you how great you would look in everything I bought. Not only were you not interested, you started a fight with me because you considered the online catalog where I bought the stuff to be porn. So I told you I would put it in the drawer and you could wear it whenever you felt like you wanted to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You never want to have sex with me anymore and you made it clear you don't feel you have any responsibility at all to meet my needs. I was feeling depressed today, so I went into the drawer, wiped off the 6 years of dust that had accumulated, and threw all of it into the garbage. I've done enough waiting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's crystal clear now. There's no fixing your issues. You're never coming out to play. Your ex-husband has won.&lt;br /&gt;==================================================================&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;h3 class="post-title"&gt;      Thank You        &lt;/h3&gt;                          &lt;div&gt;Strangely enough, I want to say "Thank You" to my ex-wife.&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;Thank you for being overbearing.&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;Thank you for wanting to control who I was friends with.&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;Thank you for controlling when I went out.&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;Thank you for bullying me into just handing over my pay each week.&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;Thank you for expecting me to raise your child from your dead beat ex-con ex-boyfriend.&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;Thank you for leaving your birth control pills out so I could see you weren't taking them.&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;Thank you for telling me the night I confronted you about it that you were already pregnant.&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;Thank you for accusing me of cheating on you with every girl I knew.&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;Thank you for bullying me into a new job I didn't want.&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;Thank you for making me move away from my friends and family.&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;Thank you for complaining when I got hired for the new job that I did want.&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;Thank you for cheating on me with your boss.&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;Thank you for cheating on me with the next door neighbor.&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;Thank you for cheating on me with the best man from our wedding.&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;Thank you for pressuing me into using my savings to buy the house...while you were cheating on me with the best man from our wedding.&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;Thank you for waiting until the day after I moved out to move him into "our" house with my kids.&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;Thank you for trying to rape me for every dime you could in our divorce.&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;Thank you for destroying my belief in honestly, trust and fidelity in relationships.&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;But more importantly....&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;Thank you for my three kids who are the light of my life.&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;Thank you for being an abject failure when you married the best man from our wedding, then divorcing him 3 years later.&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;Thank you for showing me what a really bad marriage was like, so I know what to avoid next time.&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;Thank you for bullying me into moving out and finding my own way in the world.&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;Thank you for forcing me to be responsible for myself and not so lazy.&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;Thank you for being the worst wife I could have ever imagined so I had nowhere to go but up.&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;Thank you for divorcing me so that way I could find someone new.&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;Thank you for continually calling me and badgering me, that way I can look at the girl who will be my next wife and realize how lucky I am to have her.&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;Thank you for being a tightwad with money.  That way the most meager monetary gifts that I give our kids (thanks to you, they truly are meager) are appreciated in a way that other kids would turn their noses up at.&lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div&gt;Thank you for being a total attention whore.  Now I don't have to talk shit about you, people can see you for what you are.&lt;br /&gt;=================================================================&lt;br /&gt;&lt;h3 class="post-title"&gt;      How would you feel if I was pregnant?        &lt;/h3&gt;                          We were married just over 4 years when you came in and asked me the question.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"How would you feel if I was pregnant? Because I think I am."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;we had talked about this eight months before. Since we had been married for a while and heard that stress often caused women to fail to get pregnant, we had decided to just stop using birth control and see what happened. And since we both told each other before we were married that we both wanted kids at some point, I was happy that we were going to finally become parents. I had wondered if I was sterile since eight months had gone by, but now things seemed to be fine. And I was happy because I really loved you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We did a pregnancy test and you were indeed pregnant. We started telling our families about it and went through the usually happy congrats and such. But something kept bothering me. Something in the way you asked just didn't sound right. And the cool, indifferent way you talked to me on a daily basis seemed out of place.  I told myself "Surely she wouldn't get pregnant with another guy's kid and try and pass it off as mine?". But then reality set in as I remembered the two times you had cheated on me in the past. I forgave you both times and took you back, but I realized that it was likely you had done it again. And now an innocent child was involved. So I decided to find out what was going on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I bought a tape recorder and phone interface from Radio Shack and hooked it up to the phone line. Now every time the phone was used, the recorder would come on and record everything. Since our work schedules were opposite, it would be easy for you to do stuff during the day while I was at work. So I kissed you good bye and went to work like I normally do. Then when I got home and we ate dinner, you went to work afterward as usual.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I went and pulled out the recorder from it's hiding place. The entire 2 hour cassette was full. I rewound it and began to listen. My heart sank because I was right. I listened to you talk to a man your friend introduced you to months ago. I listened to you and him talk about what you, him, and his wife had done in bed the last time you visited and how it felt. I listened to you talk about how excited you were to be able to get together again in a few days and what you wanted to do to each other in explicit detail. And I listened to you trash talk me and talk about how dumb I was. And I heard you tell him "I love you". After the tape was done, I just sat down against the wall and cried beause I knew my marriage was over.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It took a month to get a lawyer, a new bank account, apartment, and utilities in my name. I kept recording the calls. And one day after you left for work, I called my friend Bob so he could bring a trailer over. I packed up just what was mine and left most everything else there, including the furniture. We took my stuff and put it into storage, and then Bob brought me back to the apartment so I could wait for you. I fell asleep on the couch.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When you came back home, you said hi and went to use the bathroom. Then you noticed a few things were missing, so I sat you down and told you that I knew why you were pregnant and that I would be filing for divorce in a few days. I told you what a piss poor thing it was to get pregnant and try to pass the kid off as mine. I told you that I had paid the rent and utilities for a month because I didn't like the idea of leaving a pregnant woman destitute. And then I asked you if you had anything to say. You basically admitted what you did, but didn't apologize and just whined about money. I told you that you would have to talk to the child's father about that. I wished you luck and left.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I went to a new apartment in the middle of the winter. It was 20 degrees outside and my power wasn't on yet, so it was freezing in the apartment too. All I had at that point was a sleeping bag. I can't relate how alone I felt then. Trying to fall asleep on the floor in an empty, freezing, dark apartment, after just leaving a meeting where I had to destroy the relationship I had cherished or 4 years. But I survived.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A paternity test later proved that the child was indeed not mine. I found out that the couple you cheated with and their two kids moved in with you into our old apartment. I'm glad you were able to support yourself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today, I realized your son would now be 18 years old. So in rememberance, I dug out the old tapes and threw them away. I've been happily remarried for 11 years now, and I always hoped you grew up and didn't treat anyone else the way you treated me. I always treated you with love and respect. I hope you told your son good things about me. I would have been a good father.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wherever you are, I wish you and your son well.&lt;br /&gt;============================================================&lt;br /&gt;&lt;h3 class="post-title"&gt;      We're just friends. Really.        &lt;/h3&gt;                          You know that female friend of mine, the one you suspect I slept with? Well, I did, twelve years ago before you and I even met. She and I are really just friends now and would never think of doing it again. Oh, and you know her husband? The one I hang out with and play golf with? He knows, too, and is totally cool with it. The only reason we won't admit it to you is that you are so insecure and shallow that you would never let me spend time with these people anymore, and they really are some of the nicest people we know.&lt;br /&gt;============================================================&lt;br /&gt;&lt;h3 class="post-title"&gt;      Cheer up or Shut up.        &lt;/h3&gt;                          I couldn't take it any longer. You told so many of your friends and family that I am a lazy jerk, that I have decided to let out your little secret. I have been letting all my friends and family know that you suffer from anxiety and depression and that you are off your meds. Now at least people will understand your anger, mood swings and paranoia while I have been trying as hard as I can to keep things calm and stress-free around the house.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You have a common mental illness. Stop being so ashamed and just deal with it like everyone else.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6479845268285996974-6097744215511124125?l=truehusbandconfessions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://truehusbandconfessions.blogspot.com/feeds/6097744215511124125/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6479845268285996974&amp;postID=6097744215511124125' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6479845268285996974/posts/default/6097744215511124125'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6479845268285996974/posts/default/6097744215511124125'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://truehusbandconfessions.blogspot.com/2007/04/older-posts.html' title='Older posts'/><author><name>John Deau</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11382610435580938230</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry></feed>
