First Person Narriative of Leopold Bloom (Maj Fiction Blog 2)

My wife cheated on me... this is something I'm not very proud of. I already acknowledged, the moment I stepped foot out of my house, that my own precious Molly Bloom would begin her affair with Boylan in due time. I'm a little mad at myself for letting this happen, not that I didn't know that it would happen, although. People have acknowledged me as a cuckhold, despite how I felt as if this was out of my control. During the time in which my wife held her affair, I did have a bit of my own adventure, and I decided to do a few charitable deeds. People have called me kind for that. I  visited Dignam's funeral, helped Paddy understand the life insurance policy (although I was accused of being a defrauder of windows and children), fed some cakes to hungry sea gulls, the list goes on. People have said that I posses the tendency to accept more than I need. Perhaps that's why I let Molly have her affair, which secretly pains me. People have said that I am one of the most confusing and odd conversationalists. They have been flabbergasted by my complex vocabulary (take how I explained the transmigration of souls, metempsychosis, to my dear wife, or how I described the sexual pleasure of a hangman during their execution). People have thought of me as depressing, due to how I sulk around the city to escape my wife's affair or to ponder about my dead father. People, have debated whether I'm really that much of a saint as I am, perhaps my fascination of natural bodily habits such as urination and defecation may have thrown people off kilt. Think whatever you will of that but one thing is for sure: the world is full of the strange, the wild, the insane, the dog-mad, whatever you will, judge me only once you understand where my trouble and torment comes from.