My face twisted. Gently, I placed the freshly baked chocolate chip cookie I had been washing down with my whiskey into the garbage, “Ew.”
“I ended up having to drag him to the tub and wipe his bottom with wet napkins,” she went on, “After that, I couldn’t take it anymore. I left.”
If I would be inclined to give the ladies any advice, it would be to shut the fuck up about your ex-boyfriend war stories. I don’t want to hear how you smeared shit on your love’s asshole once upon a time.
Amy’s company began to sour on me. The stories, the anal-retentive nitpicking and pseudo-intellectual conversations.
The sex became a ritual we would perform when we’d run out of things to say.
I came inside her in an otherwise unmemorable night, and she simply …show more content…
I figure thirty years ago someone would probably blackmail me for such a thing. It’s lovely to enjoy the fruits of progress.
Human nature seems to be built upon the principle of whom to blame and whom to believe and there is always someone looking to take advantage. Our laws merely dictate who profits and who pays.
The words from some distant past float through my mind: “It wasn’t a shooting or stabbing, so it’ll be difficult to investigate.”
I knew what it meant at the time. Life went on. Do you know that phony sympathetic look that comes across a person’s face when they’re trying desperately to be sincere?
“I’m so sorry for your loss.”
Life goes on. No need to investigate any further. We can all agree that solving this case won’t further the status quo.
“I’m so sorry for your loss.”
I sit alone inside as eyes silently watch all around the room. I attend one after another of the four drinks on my table. Two-for-ones and the second round had been comp-ed. Four drinks for the price of one.
There was nothing to do, no great change to impose, no wish to assimilate, no desire for anything save one dream for what could never be. Nothing to do but drink the day away.
In a world of mercenary virtue, I would transcend by doing
“I ended up having to drag him to the tub and wipe his bottom with wet napkins,” she went on, “After that, I couldn’t take it anymore. I left.”
If I would be inclined to give the ladies any advice, it would be to shut the fuck up about your ex-boyfriend war stories. I don’t want to hear how you smeared shit on your love’s asshole once upon a time.
Amy’s company began to sour on me. The stories, the anal-retentive nitpicking and pseudo-intellectual conversations.
The sex became a ritual we would perform when we’d run out of things to say.
I came inside her in an otherwise unmemorable night, and she simply …show more content…
I figure thirty years ago someone would probably blackmail me for such a thing. It’s lovely to enjoy the fruits of progress.
Human nature seems to be built upon the principle of whom to blame and whom to believe and there is always someone looking to take advantage. Our laws merely dictate who profits and who pays.
The words from some distant past float through my mind: “It wasn’t a shooting or stabbing, so it’ll be difficult to investigate.”
I knew what it meant at the time. Life went on. Do you know that phony sympathetic look that comes across a person’s face when they’re trying desperately to be sincere?
“I’m so sorry for your loss.”
Life goes on. No need to investigate any further. We can all agree that solving this case won’t further the status quo.
“I’m so sorry for your loss.”
I sit alone inside as eyes silently watch all around the room. I attend one after another of the four drinks on my table. Two-for-ones and the second round had been comp-ed. Four drinks for the price of one.
There was nothing to do, no great change to impose, no wish to assimilate, no desire for anything save one dream for what could never be. Nothing to do but drink the day away.
In a world of mercenary virtue, I would transcend by doing