...and Thorough Bread Selections
I'm never gonna get laid again. Unless I buy a Porsche.
Don't laugh. I own Southern California Real Estate. I'm gonna get Absinthe rich off the sale, even though I'm only getting half. So I could buy a Porsche. Maybe with a little left over for pectoral implants.
We've lived in the house a couple months short of two years, so we can't list it until April to avoid cap gains taxes on the profit. At least ten more weeks of having to look at her every day. Good fuckin times.
I've never lived alone before. Always had mates or roommates. I'm both looking forward to it and worrying over those first few sleepless nights.
I got an e-mail yesterday that knocked me on my ass. Thanks, Larry. And you're welcome.
The whole poet thing makes perfect sense. The wife eats that shit up. Hell, when I was a' courtin' her, I ripped off some dashing verse (or dashed off some ripping verse). Sonnets, even. I continued to gut some out after we were married, too. But I'm not a very good poet. I'm too overt. My imagery is about as subtle as a punt to the nuts. And my vocabulary is too multi-syllabic. Meter is hard with words like "diaphanous." That said, I wrote two poems in a college writing course that are fucking masterpieces. A sawbuck gets you a signed copy.
If anyone out there is looking for a sure-fire diet plan, allow me to suggest hopeless sorrow. The only side effect is that you can't sleep, either.
On Valentine's Day, what do you get the wife who has everything, including a boyfriend?
I have decided to keep seeing the psychologist, minus the wife. I've never in my life felt the need for therapy and I don't know if I'll get any relief, but right now my mind is open to anything. Buddhism, Bokononism, The Moonies (hey, I could work for the Washington Times or UPI!)...whatever. I'll try anything to get over this as expeditiously as possible.
I used to have very long (and opinionated) hair. For about three week's after I cut it, I continued to play with it, tucking phantom strands behind my ear, etc. I've been doing the exact same thing with my departed wedding ring.
The wife recently won a big award at work, an "...Of The Year" type thing. Aside from the award itself, she also got a set of thick-stemmed martini/margarita glasses, which have been sitting on the kitchen counter. Every time I've spied them in the last 36 hours, I've had a primal urge to smash them to bits.
I'd like to thank everyone once more (and since I can't thank you guys enough, I reserve the right to do so again) for all the calls, comments and e-mails of support. I've felt incredibly alone lately, wrapped up in the tumult inside me, and your reaching out gave me something to grab onto yesterday. Such an amazing, compassionate and selfless group you are. I can only hope to one day re-pay your kindness.