This essay is, of course, all satire, lies, and dark humor, and should not be taken at all seriously.
*****
So I was back in (Place Name Here), home of the University of (State Name Here), where I used to go before I won a scholarship someplace better and transferred the Hell out, taking my soon-to-be-wife-and-then-ex-wife with me. My ex-wife, whose name is not Cheri, was the daughter of university faculty and was thus doomed to insanity long before the rest of her generational littermates went feral. She was a delightful 16 or 17 when I met her. I was three years older. She had already slept with six or seven guys that she’d admit to, starting at age 12 or 13. I had slept with one girl, who I thought I’d marry.
It was oddly neutral being back in (Place Name Here). I’ve acquired myriad degrees and almost-degrees over the years, and taught in a few places, and have come to the creepy realization that all colleges and universities, with a *very* few exceptions, are pretty much all exactly the same. If we had teleport disks, or teleport walls, you could wander for hours and years among the miles and miles of tertiary educational businesses we’ve built and, other than the signage, wouldn’t really know when you had left one school and entered another. You could spend your entire life in hundreds of miles of university. I was expecting a lot of painful ghosts. There really weren’t any. It wasn’t the first college I had been to, it won’t be the last, and it was just one of many at this point. There were a few specific memories, but it looked so completely identical to so many other unis I’ve been at or around that it meant nothing. This was surprising to me. I was expecting some level of nostalgia or something – there was, thankfully, very little of that.
I have one friend remaining from this period of time. Some times are like that. The friends you make don’t stick around. He was also my friend before this, since junior high school, so perhaps my friend count for the University of (State Name Here) is actually zero. He’s a good fellow, and does not date, but is very liberal and left-leaning. I recently told him I was now only the second angriest person I knew, and he was I think not quieted by this.
What I desperately want to ask him is whether or not my ex-wife aborted our unborn child while I was living in (Place Name Here). I’ve always had this dark, horrible feeling about the whole thing, and while I know a few people from that period that I could get in touch with, there’s just zero chance they’d be honest about it. The answer would be “no” no matter what the reality was. Partly to spare my feelings, perhaps, partly out of fear that I’d do something foolish. There’s no way of knowing. Since my ex-wife and I divorced, she has become a social marxist physician, and has, to the best of my understanding, murdered thousands if not tens of thousands of unborn children because she has become literally the embodiment of evil of wymen’s rights or something.
Anyway, after wandering the campus, I drove by my ex’s and mine’s old house, ultimately tasered the new owner’s dog, and masturbated in our old bedroom. I made sure not leave any bodily fluids, thank goodness, although it took a while to pour bleach over all the blood of mine the dog had spilled.
*****
I will never know if she killed our unborn child. I’ll never know. I don’t know if I’d be happier knowing or not. She was capable of pathological dishonesty, and it was entirely within her character to do that. I will never find out, and it will haunt me to the rest of my days.
"You can either love women, or understand women. You can't do both. Because once you understand women, you realize that there is really nothing to love."
blade 2 years, 10 months ago.
