Tuesday, June 30, 2015

I Eat Cannibals. Well, Not Really.

I have no idea how to get a divorce.  I kinda wish Jason would just go away and give me money every month - so I can pay for daycare, groceries and wine.

If he moves out, I know he's gonna want to take all the decent records with him. It's only fair - they were his to begin with.  Practically the only albums I'll have left to listen to will be Quarterflash and Sammy Hagar.  What was I thinking?  That music really sucks.

Maybe he'll just leave without them, but it's unlikely.  He loves Total Coelo too much.


When Jason's unit left on rotation for Europe, I went completely bananas.  I'd already been unfaithful, so I decided it didn't matter anymore what I did and with whom.  I thought by sleeping with every guy who seemed remotely interested, I'd be demonstrating just how sophisticated and self-sufficient I was.

I wouldn't exactly call myself a slut.  But only because deep down, I felt like all I needed was a new relationship.  A fresh start with somebody different.  Sluts don't want boyfriends, do they?

By the time my unsuspecting husband returned to Little Rock, I barely gave him time to unpack before I insisted he move out.  He arranged for a room in the dorms.  It was like Jason never even knew what hit him.  Probably because nothing I said made any sense.

He showed up one afternoon with a green canvas duffel bag.  He emptied the top two drawers of the bureau and took his shoes from the closet.  Kirin stood behind the end table in the living room, playing with his little cars and quietly taking a dump in his diaper.

"Don't make like you didn't know this was gonna happen," I yelled into the bedroom.

"Like what was gonna happen?  I don't understand anything that's going on!"

"Maybe we can get back together.  I don't know.  But for right now, I just need some space."

He didn't look that enthused.  I knew he didn't give a shit.  And what did I tell you? He took all the good fucking records.

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