…but you’re out of hand these days.
I’ve tried negotiating with my ex-wife. I get delays, abusive emails, and a lot of bs. I’ve tried offering ideas about coparenting with my ex-wife. I get rejection, reasons why it won’t work, or ignored. I’ve asked for facetime where we could work some of our “issues” out and I get excuses, I get her new husband instead, I get a lot of nothing.
My ex-wife treats me like a misbehaving child. I’m in time out.
So I rail. And I feel good about it. And I feel bad about it. I mean, she’s the mother of my children, how can I be talking (writing) so disparagingly about her?
Well, for the first part, she’s a royal b****. Second, she’s decided not to deal with me but to let the state of Texas deal with me. (She turned our relationship over to the AG’s office a few years ago, to enforce her decree.) I guess she forgets I agreed to the terms of our divorce. I guess she forgets that only death can separate me from my debt to her. I guess she forgets that if we’d gone 50/50 like I wanted, there would be no child support, we’d have had to pay our own way. I guess she forgets.
But I don’t think she forgets, that’s a cop-out. She hates. She seethes. And she’d rather not see me for fear for lightening up on the angry legal approach she takes to everything I ask about. I’m not asking for much. I’d like the lien on my credit report to be lifted, so I don’t show up to potential employers as a deadbeat dad. I’d like her to acknowledge that the AG’s office was a bad idea and to make the single phone call that could end their intrusion into our lives. But she won’t.
She’s convinced, and she tells me from time to time, that they provide a service to us. They provide the accounting that we’d eventually have to come up with. They provide an easy way to pay her the child support. She’s convinced that having them in our lives is a good idea. Still. She still wants the arm of the law and the lawyers of the state on her side. I don’t know how to respond. So I learn not to respond. I learn to respond here. I learn to let it out in a healthy way (anonymously) that won’t damage her or my kids in any way.
Am I right? I don’t know. Does it feel right? Sometimes. Do I need an outlet for this rage that comes up when she pulls one of her dickish moves? Absolutely.
I’ve developed a term for what she is. The term was brought into use when referring to a new girlfriend’s mean ex. The dickish ex. That’s what I’ve got: a dickish ex.
She knows she’s being dickish. She knows that sending her new husband to meet with me rather than meet with me herself is a dickish and cowardly move. Well, the AG’s office has a surprise for her. In our child support negotiations it’s only going to be me and her and the AG employee. She’s going to have to tell the case worker why she’s being a dick. (grin)
I’m sorry for the things I say here. I’m also happy I have this outlet so I don’t take my frustrations out in some other way. To my dickish ex I give my middle finger. To the AG’s office I say, “I will comply to the letter of the law, as I always have.”
The Off Parent
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image: pretty close up, creative commons usage
We were married over ten years. We spawned two great kids. But I’d have to say there were very few years that weren’t somewhat tumultuous. It seemed like I was always begin accused of some transgression: not doing enough of the chores, asking for sex too often, not being honest, not being responsible enough. And while these weren’t leveraged at me as an excuse for not wanting to make love, it was more often than not one of these complaints that shut her libido completely off. Zero.
What she failed to mention, well into our “lunches” that got progressively more flirty, is that she was living with a man.
But there has been a lot of time since then, and you think I’d let go of it, but some parts of the divorce and thus marriage still have big question marks for me. Could I have done more? Was I at fault? Was I a child? In trying to examine these things about my role in the relationship, I’ve come to discover there were a lot of things in her story that didn’t add up. There were some key pieces of information that were being left out at various points along the way, that have me wondering. Was it her fault? Was she dishonest from the beginning? When she told me, in couples therapy, that she’d already seen a lawyer, was it couple’s therapy or divorce counseling we’d been doing?
The first big X was when we were just getting re-acquainted with each other. We’d known each other in high school and had started “doing lunch” on a semi-weekly basis. What she failed to mention, well into our “lunches” that got progressively more flirty, is that she was living with a man. Not just dating him, but living in his house.
The second big X came during one of our hardest moments. As 9-11 had torn everyone’s financial stability to the ground and I was struggling with how I wanted to reenter the work place, she began a series of lunches with a young man she worked with. It wasn’t that she was having lunch with him, it’s that she wasn’t telling me about him. And the day I stumbled onto an email about “his depression” and “my loneliness” I knew I was discovering what emotional infidelity felt like. We weathered this one, she admitted her mistake and vowed to never do it again. But a deep fundamental trust had been broken.
So three strikes of dishonesty and deceit. And I was the one always being accused of being untrustworthy.
The final X came when she confessed to consulting with an attorney while we were in couple’s therapy. She didn’t let on that things were that bad IN therapy, and only admitted her “discovery phase” because I asked her. She was not being honest. She was not opening up in couple’s therapy. She was planning her options. She wanted to know what she was going to get if we divorced. It’s a fear she had expressed to me earlier, in some moment of wine-induced honesty. “If you leave me, I’ll have nothing.” It was a false statement, but it was an indication of just how deep her fear went.
So three strikes of dishonesty and deceit. And I was the one always being accused of being untrustworthy. Sometimes it is projection that shows up. If she was feeling unfaithful, untrustworthy, perhaps projecting those fears on to me help her deal with her own guilt.
In the dataset I see, she was withholding and misrepresenting herself all along. This is a hard nut to swallow at this point. But it’s easier than trying to figure out what I did wrong. Because I was the partner who was still ALL-IN at the end. She’d made a decision to leave, made plans to cover her needs, and then with the backing of the State of Texas, she ripped my world in two.
I was given a 1/3 – 2/3 parenting schedule. (Called the Standard Possession Order). I was given the non-custodial parent role, that comes with a large child support payment. And I was asked to leave the house I funded. Because it was “in the best interest of the kids.”
What was not in the best interest of anyone was the bad deal I got. Rather than cooperating during tough times, she decided to file on me after three months of being late. I was telling her she would get paid. I was showing her my bank statements and my pursuit of new business. But she was impatient and entitled. So she let the dogs loose on her ex-husband. And while this big X doesn’t show up on the chart, it’s the biggest one. I can never trust her again. Perhaps my biggest mistake was trusting her after she told me she was living with a guy.
The Off Parent
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It was her decision to seek greener pastures. It was her distrust and un-trustworthiness that ultimately sank our relationship. It was her actions, after divorce, that caused me to be homeless a second time. She didn’t need to hit me when I was down. She, somehow, didn’t see that a blow against me was a blow against the children, our children.
And still, I have to move on. I mean, I must move on. I mean, it’s hard…
The AG’s office is a debt collection agency. Once you invite them into your relationship they will square off and pick sides. And you, as the non-custodial parent, are on the losing side.
I was asking her to have a little patience with me while my employer and I looked for a new anchor client. A few summers ago, I got behind on my child support payments. But it wasn’t a surprise. I was advising her all the way in. And then she started rattling the “enforcement” sabres of the Attorney General’s office. There was nothing I could do, besides telling her the exact date and time I would get completely caught up with “the money you owe me,” that would dissuade her from sending me to the angry dogs. She did it.
Somewhere in our collaborative divorce she got what she would’ve gotten had we gone to court. But I didn’t fight. I didn’t want to fight. I still don’t. But maybe it’s time to fight back.
In our divorce decree we based my child support on an $80,000 a-year job that I had recently lost. I was on track for a new job, so we/I decided to go with it. Sure. In the same decree I also agreed to pay for 100% of the kids health insurance. I’m not sure how this is considered fair, but again, I was not fighting her, I was trying to do what was right by my kids.
But things didn’t turn out the way I planned. The job didn’t come. My job became more of a partnership with an old colleague. And I was okay paying the full amount for a year before the difficulties hit. Now, it is these difficulties that really punched up the true colors of my ex-wife. Had she been cooperative, and compassionate she would’ve negotiated with me, navigated the rough times together, and we could have continued a civil relationship. That’s not how she chose to play it.
After a summer of excuses she filed our decree with the AG’s office and claimed that I owed her a lot of money. And while I don’t deny that the debt is mine, I don’t think it needed to be attached to my credit report so I couldn’t rent a house or purchase a used car. She didn’t care. She didn’t listen to me when I explained what the AG’s office was for.
The AG’s office is a debt collection agency. Once you invite them into your relationship they will square off and pick sides. And you, as the non-custodial parent, are on the losing side. They work for the custodial parent, who is obviously having trouble collecting their money, otherwise you wouldn’t be talking to them. So as a non-custodial parent, when you call the AG’s office, you are in trouble.
My ex tried to rationalize with me a year ago, “Lot’s of people deal with the AG’s office and they don’t seem to have problems. It must be something you’re doing.”
Begin aside to my ex-wife.
Um, who are you talking to? Other custodial moms? Yes, I can see how they would think the AG’s office is a fine option. And I suppose if you are dealing with a dead beat dad, someone trying NOT to pay, or someone hiding money from their ex-spouse, the AG’s office provides a welcome service. But I was neither of those things. I was telling you where my money was. I was agreeing to pay the full amount when I could. But my inability to tell you the date and time of your repayment was enough to trigger your anger.
My guess is your anger is on-going. Somewhere in your heart I am the one responsible for the divorce. Or, if the divorce was indeed your idea, perhaps it was my inability to be a responsible adult, or to be trustworthy in some arcane definition you were harboring. Either way, you filed.
I have to forgive her everyday to not be mad at her. But I will never forget what she did, and what she continues to do every day.
Today, two years later, I’m “on schedule” with my payments for the last year. Do you think now would be a good time to talk about removing the bootjack from my ass? No? Okay, when?
The point is, my ex-wife still believes the Attorney General’s office serves her. And in fact they do. But their form of service has limited my options significantly. And not because I have refused to pay her a portion of every dollar I’ve made since the divorce. And not because I was hiding money from her. She keeps the AG’s office in my pants because she thinks they are the reason she’s getting paid. In fact, they are the reason she’s getting paid less. (The AG’s office exacts a fee from the funds collected. They really are a collections agency.)
So if my ex-wife believes the AG’s office is in the best interest of all of us, then I will have to continue to find compassion in my heart to not call her bad names, and shout at her when we cross paths at the kid’s school events. No, it’s not that bad between us. But it’s because I’m being the bigger parent. She’s still got the collections agency on her side, full-well knowing that I’ve never hid a single dollar from her, or denied my willingness to pay her all the money she is owed.
The truth is, I can only pay her from money I am making. Now that I’m making better money, she can have the extra cash for nice new shoes for the kids, and for her. She can fix up the house. She can plan a summer vacation. But she could do all of this without putting the lien on my life. I have to forgive her everyday to not be mad at her. But I will never forget what she did, and what she continues to do every day. I can ask for a change. She can demand I pay the full amount owed. And we can move along parenting as best we can. I think we’ll both get what we want, eventually.
The Off Parent
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image: girl playing, creative commons usage
I need a little anger right now. Things have been too cordial between the exy and me.
WAIT A MINUTE. Be careful what you ask for…
Let me take that back.
I am usually engaged in some creative project that has the potential to break me free from the constrains of the steady job, child support and insurance payments.
I could use the energy that I get from being really angry about something. Often that target has been the divorce and damage done. Recently, my anger has been pointed in at myself. And I’m still struggling a little with that. Like what did I do with all that OFF time when I wasn’t writing or publishing? Yeah, I lost some weight, but wasn’t it mainly due to my suppressed appetite?
What if a good portion of life is really fairly mundane? And we seek out anger, excitement, even depression when things get to smooth. I’m not saying that’s what happened in October when I “took a digger,” but there’s something to be said for my initial sentence there at the top of this post.
I don’t do mundane very well. I am usually engaged in some creative project that has the potential to break me free from the constrains of the steady job, child support and insurance payments, to liberate me as an ARTIST once and for all. But is that how it works?
I’d like some anger because it makes for a better, more impassioned story. I’d like some anger because it fuels attention outside myself rather that AT myself. I’d like some anger because the mundane is boring.
I know that I have always put my sails to the wind in search of a big win. Writing and music, those have been my inspirations. And neither of those paths offer quick or simple wins. There’s really not that many slots on American Idol, and I’m a bit old for the camera anyway.
But I go on. I keep working.
The kids don’t care. They don’t even know. They are teenagers and in many ways so is my ex-wife. Shopping, shopping, shopping.
I’m in a lull. Not a deep lull, that’s what I’m coming out of. But I’m not firing on all cylinders yet, and this makes me sad, scared, a bit bored, and mostly just restless for the burning inspiration that comes from the white-hot heat.
I’m not asking for an incident. I’m not asking for a movie deal. I’m really asking my inner creative to get back to the task at hand. Writing. The blog is a great start, but it’s not going to earn me any royalties. Meanwhile, I continue to have very little money in my pocket, because in the divorce I agreed to pay child support AND healthcare for both kids. That’s good when you have a job that provides for a good portion of that expense, but when you’re paying it all, or paying through COBRA, it’s a lot to swallow.
There’s my anger. Why am I working a job to give 98% of it to my ex-wife and kids? The kids don’t care. They don’t even know. They are teenagers and in many ways so is my ex-wife. Shopping, shopping, shopping. That’s the mantra in that household. It’s not a way to establish a relationship or orient a life. But I’m not privy to the 65% of their “family” time. I’m only able to provide my parenting around alternating weekends. And in some ways I’m afraid I’m becoming my father.
Does my son even know me? Am I just the next dress shirt that I can buy for him? Does my daughter think of things other than Lululemon? And I’m complicit to a certain extent, I let them squirrel away into their rooms most of the time. They are 13 and 15. Tough times to be sure, but I’ve got to do a better job of setting some examples of “things we can do together, besides shopping.”
It’s a challenge.
The Off Parent
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image: angers, lionel roll, creative commons usage
It’s already sounding snarky to me, but I have to give thanks to the mother of my children for releasing me from a marriage that had grown unbalanced and unhappy. She pulled the trigger and set the separation in motion long before I was willing or able to admit we were done. But we were. Kind of.
I was not done, but I was very unhappy. As an eternal optimist I trained myself over the course of our marriage to sublimate the desire for sex or the desire for joy. I was a good husband and a good provider. But I was not good at just going through the motions. We described the last year of our marriage as “living like roommates.” I was unhappy about this, she was more matter-of-fact. Things weren’t living up to her satisfaction, why would she continue to have intimate relations with someone she no longer loved.
As I took matters into my own hands and forgave her for some loss of libido, I was also beginning to feel a bit hopeless about my ability to remain centered and happy. Of course, I was already way off-balance, but I didn’t know this. I thought I was being the honorable and stable one. What I was being was stoic and stubborn. I should’ve called for a time out or a pow wow long before we reached the D stage. But I didn’t.
I’ve learned I’m what’s called “conflict adverse.” If I can avoid a fight I will. I will hide certain facts (like a speeding ticket or bounced check) in order to not “get into it.” But this sort of behavior, even as small as it was, was maddening to my then-wife. She had trust and security issues. And any minor infraction of this “trust issue” as it became known in our counseling sessions was met with cynicism and “you will never change.”
In therapy we seemed to focus on me and my issues. She kept bring us back to some crisis of trust. Over and over.
The problem was our relationship while built on the desire to have kids was not strong enough to build and rebuild once the kids reached school age. While I was always pursuing my creative crafts (writing, music, blogging) my then-wife had put most of her artistic ambitions in the closet, right behind the vacuum cleaner. She became more obsessed with the cleanliness of the living room and less interested in the connectedness of our relationship. How could someone you love be okay with going a month without sex? I was astounded and hurt that we had reached such a distant state. I asked for therapy, and contributed actively to the rebuilding idea, but something was not working.
In therapy we seemed to focus on me and my issues. I suppose, due to my bouts of depression, I allowed this to happen, even when the issues, in my eyes, were more emotional. She kept bring us back to some crisis of trust. Over and over. A little thing, a receipt from a restaurant that I forgot to report on my company expense report for reimbursement could become a “thing.” And the issues continued to grab the lion share of our therapy sessions. Meanwhile we were sleeping in different beds about 90% of the time and my suggestions at intimacy were rejected by habit.
As our emotional life was being crushed we were counseling about “trust issues” and my “mental health.” Of course, my depressions had been awful, and I have nothing but respect for this woman who stood by me through the worst of it. I also began to believe that she might never return to her happy state. She might never joyfully suggest sex or show up in the hallway in matching bra and panties. She was somewhere else emotionally. She was packing her bags as she was hammering me about my next job and when the new insurance would kick in from the new job.
She’s laughed with me at the stupid complications my ex-wife has injected into my life through litigation. We laugh a lot.
Today, almost six years later, I can say, I am very happy and very sexual in my new relationship. And while we’ve got our work ahead, I have to acknowledge that something is very different about how we relate to each other. For one thing we BOTH really like sex, and we BOTH seek out that connection. (Who knew that the best sex was ahead?) AND we seem to have both gotten our emotional and psychological issues mapped out enough to related on a very open and honest level.
She’s seen me depressed. She didn’t freak out or run away. She’s seen my financial status vacillate from AWESOME to BROKE and back. And she’s laughed with me at the stupid complications my ex-wife has injected into my life through litigation. We laugh a lot.
And on my part, I’ve seen things in her that were a bit different from what I imagined. I had developed the idea that only a mother would have the skills and empathy to understand my own kids. What I didn’t know at that time, was how complete this woman could be with her life and her choices and how she could WANT my kids in her life, even if she didn’t have any kids of her own. In fact, the non-kid aspect made our early courtship a lot easier as we merely coordinated around MY kid schedule.
Today, I can openly give thanks to my ex-wife for giving me the opportunity to seek and find a different kind of love. And I look forward to build a new life around and with my kids and this wonderful new partner.
The Off Parent
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image: breakfast in bed, nyc, 2015, cc the author, creative commons usage
It’s an odd feeling when you pass the old lover of your ex-wife. The guy she was living with when you reconnected with your high school friend. “It’s just lunch,” we said, but our hearts were moving much quicker than our bodies or circumstances could accommodate. But I didn’t know she was living with someone. Dating, sure, but like moved in, and sleeping there, hardly at her apartment? I did not know this until much later.
I passed him yesterday evening in the grocery store. I’m not sure he recognized me, but the flash in my mind was clear.
I understand now, a bit more, how women often have to qualify “lunch” if they accept it. Or help. Or consulting. While I did not expect anything to develop, just in that two or three lunches, and everything was above-board. We hugged at the end, like friends, like when we met again at the coffee shop. But my energies were in dire need of a connection. And I can’t speak for her, but I would bet money, she was not telling him that she was eating lunch with an old friend from high school. See. Because I learned years later, when we were married, that she did these kind of things.
A number of times she would have lunch with her previous husband. I guess it didn’t ever occur to her to say, “Hey I’m going to lunch with XXX.” And on the flip side, it never occurred to me NOT to tell her when my ex called or wanted to do coffee. It never occurred to me not to be upfront with who I was having lunch with.
Then, during an awfully low period, my then-wife, lunched with another man. A younger man who was attractive and very interested in some kind of relationship with my then-wife. She thought nothing of joining him for lunch, showing him our local library where he could chill and get a free cup of coffee. But I’ve already dealt with this episode. (See: Cheating Hearts, Cheating Minds)
So when this much-older-now guy passed me in the store I thought, just for a second, you poor bastard. Of course, today, I was ultimately referring to myself.
The Off Parent
My posts/poems about desire are really about hoping and striving towards “what’s next.”
I had a friend ping me on Facebook yesterday after reading one of my poems. She said, “They make me so sad for you.” I was surprised. But I can understand how things might come off that way, especially if you are entering The Off Parent from one of the more emotional posts. But I want to be clear, this is a process, and this blog is large enough to contain the anger, the depression, the joy, the thrill of new relationships, and the frustration at dealing with a woman who no longer thinks I’m hot shit. (That’s okay, it’s mutual.) Overall, the picture I am hoping to paint… WAIT. That’s not the idea. I’m not trying to put a bow around the process of divorce. Let’s try again.
I would not want Divorce for ANYONE. That said, my divorce, has become one of the defining and re-defining moments of my life. I would not say I wanted the divorce, or that it was MY idea… BUT… I was starting to stand up for a situation that had become unbearable for me.
The points of leverage changed dramatically when she let me know, in therapy, that she HAD consulted an attorney.
The difference between my ex-wife’s perspective and mine was minor. Critical, but minor. In the large scheme of things, I was also demanding a change.
MY PERSPECTIVE: this demand was the only way I had to effect change from within my marriage. I was arguing and demanding answers to some dark questions from the perspective that I WANTED THE MARRIAGE TO CONTINUE.
HER PERSPECTIVE: (somewhat paraphrased, but we went over it a number of times in therapy, so I’m not putting words into her mouth) she was unhappy with the marriage and saw no signs of things changing or getting better, thus it was better for her to move to something different.
The points of leverage changed dramatically when she let me know, in therapy, that she HAD consulted an attorney. I was crushed and panicked, but unsurprised. The anger she had been demonstrating in action and words over the previous 12 months had all but wrecked my positive outlook. And this admission, only revealed by my direct ask, “Have you already been to see a lawyer?” When she said yes, I just about hit the eject button right there. I did the sober thing, and expressed my dismay in a rational manner and left the session feeling absolutely lost about what to do next.
In the process of the next few days, primarily via email, I ranted and demanded she make a decision. She demurred and deflected for a couple of days. But in the end I was asked to leave the house and give her some space, so relief from the stress and tension she and the kids were experiencing. Um, what?
In the end, I refused. It was March. My line, “The process of divorce takes time. There is no hurry. And I’m not going to throw my kid’s lives into this hell before the school year is up. We’ve been living as roommates for a year, we can do it for another two months. We can split sleeping on the couch.”
Somewhere in the back of my mind, in my rapidly crashing heart, I was certain she would see the error of her ways and come back. I knew, however, in my rational mind, that this was not going to happen.
Today, three years later, I am happy. Alone. But happy. And I won’t pass judgement on her and the boyfriend who has given her strength and steadiness.
A few sessions before the hammer fell the therapist had asked a pivotal question, “How do you feel about the marriage and this process at this point.”
I went first. “Hopeful.”
Her word, and I knew more than I wanted to admit actually how hopeless I was feeling, was “Cynical.”
I think that was the beginning of my revelation into the darkness that now separated the two of us. It was different for each of us. But the pain, sadness, and anger was just a potent for each of us. I like to think I was on the optimist-side of the whole deal, but I was pretty disheartened.
All that said… as water under the bridge…
Today, three years later, I am happy. Alone. But happy. And I won’t pass judgement on her and the boyfriend who has given her strength and steadiness. My daughter likes him. That’s enough for me.
As I cursed, raged, pleaded, and cried at my wife trying to get her to come back to the marriage, I was also certain that I could not do it alone. Two people have to be IN for a marriage to work. So she exited before me. Probably, maybe, that whole year of blinding anger, was really her way of trying to help ME exit. But I’m projecting now.
When the agreement was made to divorce I also demanded the right to stay in the house until the kids were out of school. A shitty-hard decision, but I did not want to reenact the gross and bitter divorce struggle of my parents. And it was my argument, even against the therapist, that remaining in the house while the kids finished their 1st and 4th grade years at elementary school was much better than me leaving the house immediately.
Take heart. It gets better.
And today, I would assure you that my kids are thriving. And while the ex-y and I don’t communicate much, we have kids who love both of us and are seeing how we can still care about each other while moving in new directions with our lives.
So as I write poems about being “a poet rather than a player” I mean to be happy about it. This journey has taken some amazingly wonderful turns. And the next one is coming right up.
The Off Parent
image: broken dreams, brandon satterwhite, creative commons usage
[Note: I’m her second ex-husband.]
There’s that fantasy that has something about two girls and a guy. I think it’s a universal male erotic obsession. I know I HAD it for a while. Not to say I don’t enjoy a bit of voyeuristic girl-on-girl pic or vid from time to time.
But the time my ex-y and I went to a titty bar together and ran into her FIRST ex-husband, it was a bit too much. I mean, seeing the ex-husband there was kinda funny, and my ex-y was fun about it. We sent him a lap dance.
And then we got my ex-y a couple lap dances herself. A hot, very pierced and very young working girl who clearly enjoyed making my ex-y’s muff moist, was all over playing the role for us.
But the scene was uncomfortable for several reasons. My ex-y sort of “got into it” a bit much. I could see her flushed cheeks. I could imagine… Wait, I didn’t want to imagine it. And here’s why: something at that time told me that the switch would be fairly easy for my ex-y. The fantasy is fine until the dude is left cold. I mean, what more do I have to offer, once they are hooked up, so to speak?
So we paid her a couple times, back and forth, in a ménage à trois ala stripper club. And the girl’s perfume was heavy with her scent. She was “working” pretty hard. And not just at our table.
We never went back. And I’m pretty sure, the idea, while somewhat interesting on paper, became more of a “not really” for me. The fragility of our intimacy was close enough that any, [any] alternative sexual energy was a threat rather than a turn-on.
It’s a shame. Or maybe not.
Hey, it looks like that stripper club is having a special tonight. Steak and lobster for $15.95. A pocket full of ones a few twenties, and… Nah, not tonight.
The Off Parent