Okay guys. Do you know those type of women that want to go to get togethers, AKA doing chick s~~~, with the ‘girls’ and leave you at home with the kids? Well my ex wife wasn’t one of those. Personal theories abound about why this was true but I believe that the most accurate one is that my ex could not stand the idea that I was home alone or with my kids doing my own thing. Whether this was from a personal resentment that I could enjoy life without her being around, or the belief that my testicles endowed me with the inability to not accidentally trigger a nuclear bomb, and therefore, should be closely monitored. To be fair, if I had all of the neat doodads that it are needed to take one apart, that would be exactly what I would do with my free time. There wouldn’t be a f~~~ing thing that I understand, but the idea of poking around all of those gizmos with a screwdriver would be just too impossible to resist.
Back to the ex. Deep sigh. Okay. One day I had to go with her to a ‘luncheon’. What ever the f~~~ that is. I just know it didn’t involve a good bottle of scotch and a history documentary. I think that it was supposed to be a social get together in which I had to interact with people I didn’t know, or care about, or want to care about, eat food and ‘chat’. By ‘chat’, I mean inane yammering about s~~~ that just doesn’t matter.
Now. This ‘luncheon’ was being hosted by my ex wife’s best friend, whom she has known since she was three years old. This particular woman is a gold digging bitch that serial dated men old enough to be her father because she was looking for the magic money machine. In this particular instance, she hit pay dirt with a maxio-facial surgeon, pushed a baby out, and ensured her future was augmented by the income of this self made man. Because, let’s face it, interior design degrees don’t exactly bring home Pierre Lubertons. Let’s call her…….The Gold Digging Bitch (GDB).
So. I have eaten a satisfying repast of some s~~~ and some other s~~~ and sipping a chilled chardonnay, and wondering if I could get drunk without anyone noticing. There is this other poor bastard there in the circle of vaginas, that has a smile pushed across his face, nodding his head like a mangina bobble head, and agreeing to everything they are saying. I’m trying to cop a buzz, and have virtually zoned out everything for the last 20 minutes or so. I was probably thinking about sex with myself to relieve the pain and anguish of the group narcissism that was taking place.
My idyllic daydream was shattered by a question from the this circle. I didn’t hear it at first, but I responded with the appropriate “Huh?”. The question was repeated. Now, I have to tell you guys that by this time I am almost 38 years old with an infant. The question was “Do you want to have another child?” To which I replied. “I’m going to be 56 years old by the time my youngest leaves the home for college or enlists in the French Foreign Legion. Another kid would mean that I’m looking hard at my sixties before the last one leaves, and I want to enjoy my golden years before someone is talking about grand kids”.
The husband of the GDB was smart enough to be working on a Saturday, so he missed this particular soiree. Let’s call him Poor Bastard (PB). I was countered with “PB had his first kid when he was 56, why wouldn’t you want to have another?” I’m not the most socially astute person in the world, but I realize that a response of “F~~~ him” isn’t going to fly with my socially retarded wife, and her herd. They could tell I was put on the spot, but they didn’t give a s~~~. I responded with “I’m not PB, and it wouldn’t be fair that I should be compared with someone else”. After this I was ignored and I went back to looking for a bottle of something that doesn’t look like urine.
What I really wanted to say was that “I’m not a millionaire that can afford a nanny so that some lazy t~~~ won’t have to be bothered with raising her own kids. Kids that are running around a 7,200 square foot, $1.4 million dollar house, and should be poster children for Adderall.”
I just though I would share this particular episode, and will share others on the basis of when ever I get around to it. From experience comes wisdom. Try to grow wise on the travails and tribulation of others so that you don’t have lighten your wallet to become the sage on the mountain top.
Oh yeah. F~~~ Him!
"I asked you a question. I didn't ask you to repeat what the voices in you head are telling you" ~ Me. ........Yes I'm still angry.
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