Tuesday, October 23, 2007

I Am My Own Husband


That dang insomnia is kicking in for a change. I initially urged myself back to sleep, then I tried to cajole myself to go for an early run. Who am I kidding? For an early walk, or shuffle - a run on these city sidewalks being murder on these ancient knees. I refused my suggestion of a walk, so I then tried to convince myself to clean up the hovel, I mean apartment that I dwell in. I took a look around at the cave formerly known as a pied a terre, and it hit me like an ice cold dirty martini dramatically flung in the face of a hairy backed blind date who dared to attempt a grope- I have become the husband/boyfriend that my attached friends bitch and moan about.

I stay out until all hours of the night
I refuse to cook and can easily eat my dinner standing up in the kitchen
I socialize with my clients more than my loved ones
I shamelessly flirt with all the little crumpets that come my way with no thought to anything serious
This apartment used to be gorgeous and spotless to boot, but it's not like I even notice the mess on my way to and from my frequent debauchery. (Okay, I *wish* debauchery, but we're going for a theme here)
I forget birthdays, anniversaries and all of those Hallmark holidays
I rarely do laundry (yeah, like you would if you saw the laundry room in this building) and instead have adopted the charming habit of throwing out my undies and splurging on new ones instead.
I'm getting a spare tire - hell, I've got a matching set of whitewalls at this point

In defense of me though-
I'm so charming that I can talk my way out of just about any situation and no one can really stay angry at me for long
I'm so good at what I do that people bandy about terms like genius, gifted and success
Everyone loves me, though they secretly think that I'm too good for the likes of me

Okay, so I'm exaggerating, but why would I try to date him if I've become him?

As you were....

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