Crazy, Huh?

No, I can’t stop justifying myself. All things are a compromise. Evolutionary mutations are a prime example. Does any one thing or event erupt into this time and space plane fully formed, perfect for all men, all at once? No – it’s a compromise of many factors.

Take my latest, self-generated disaster, for instance. The short story is that I’m married but not really. Without dissing the ex too much, we basically have no relationship, nor have we had for many a year. We have various entanglements, legal and familial, all of which are unpleasant. I want to deal with them, she does not. She would much prefer torturing me to death, slowly, painfully and as completely as possible, then boiling my testicles until well blanched, like almonds, almost but not exactly. She’s manipulated my family into hating me and loving her “wackiness”, that is, her sociopathic idiosyncratic stylings.

So, the whole thing smacks of a bad soap. Okay – now, me man. Me lonely. Me spend much money on therapy to get to better place. Now, me want friends. Place ad in Craigslist. Friends come, some with less than platonic intentions. I’m intrigued. Do I really care if it’s a 54 year old bald guy that still lives in his mom’s basement purporting to be a saucy Latina, early forties with a curvaceous figure and a lust for life? F*ck, nah, dawg.

But then, it gets serious. We write and write, then talk and talk, then see a little, talk a little, peck, peck, peck, see a lot, talk a little more. In my feeble mind, I’m divorced. My circumstances were to live in this here place I call Chaos Manor until Roxie gets her act on the road and the joint gets upped on the proverbial auction block. But Roxie blows back into town and the shit hits the fan. Doesn’t it always, though.

In the meantime, my lady friend is evolving into a girlfriend into a spiteful bitch – oops, I’m getting ahead of myself. What I meant was that I had two battles to fight. One, the battle against poverty since I had become Unexpectedly Unemployed. Actually, I knew I was too expensive for the jokers I worked for and it was just a matter of time, but just so.

Anyway, I’m juggling my balls (the ones that Roxie wants to blanch) and am paying, like, no mind to my GF since I’m shit-ass broke anyhow. So, she gripes and I says, yo beyotch, I’m too sucky for y’all, so blow, dig? But she hangs and that’s kewl so I says, listen, I know you be all up in my shit an’ all and we spent the night knockin’ bootses and gettin’ over, like, but, check it, I’m really strating to feell it and if’n that’s hows it gonna be, then let me lay the Word on y’all.

I laid all all of the facts – how bad I was as a human, what a Space Case I could be, how arbitrary and misantropic I am, plus, oh, yeah, I’m still legally married. SEND. Um, I shouldn’t have done that, now, should I have? I should have doen this in person. Duh! Shades of grey turning black . . .

I texted and called, but nothing stops a person from doing something they probably shouldn’t when it sounds just so enticing as to be forbidden. Oh, boy (a phrase that will get you fired from a company that is international and that deals in paper, amongst other things.) No chance of the GF becoming Mrs. Me now, is there? How dern right I was, too.

There’s no doubt that I can stretch reality like the sixth member of The Incredibles. For myself, anyway. Convincing others is not so easy. Foolish mortals. Anyhow, that was the beginning of the end. I wanted to set a new baseline, saying, “Hey – this is everything, this is all. Like the plane that crashes into Garp’s house, what’s the chance of there being any other left shoes to drop. And, of course, I didn’t want have just that single, tiny issue to matter for the whole of it.

People will see that which has meaning to them. In this case, the phrase “legally married” seems to provoke a strong reaction. Of course, I knew it was a chance to take, but how much farther could I go without clearing the air.

Anyway, I made my case later. Can you guess how it turned out? Suffice it to say, it is impossible to explain in a microcosm of words what voice and body language can communicate. So, the next time you have to tell your girlfriend you’re married, don’t do what I have done, as the line in Rising Sun goes. Instead, stop what you’re doing, come in person, bring flowers and chocolate. Lots and lots of chocolate. Reality goes down much better when consumed with Cacao.