My apologies, but I don’t have ten reasons I will die alone. However, I read that if you put a number in your post title you get more hits. There is a name for that: listicles (I feel like I should turn my head and cough). Sorry for the deception, but since you are already here...
One day they will find me dead, lazy-boy reclined, spilled glass of scotch by my side (hope it’s the cheap brand; hate to waste the good stuff), my NETFLIX queue empty, and the cat sniffing at my rotting corpse (wait, I don’t have a cat – how did he get in here?)
It may not work out like that; perhaps I will die in my sleep or with family by my side, but I am pretty sure of one thing---I won’t leave a grieving widow behind. It’s not that my looks are repulsive or that I have a personality that sends woman screaming off into the night (in my opinion). Perhaps fate does have someone …show more content…
Is it my age (soon to be fifty-seven) or the continuous meet-and-greet grew tiresome, more so after fifteen years of being divorced. I don’t have the answer. I wish I did.
I’m still a romantic at heart and I fully expect to turn a corner one day and will meet the love-of-my-life. The problem? I have to get to the corner in order to turn it.
For now it’s just me, scotch, and the ROKU box.
Not everyone is thrilled with this relationship. Members of my family wonder why I don’t want to meet someone (which is not true) and don’t I want someone to grow old with? Of course I do.
My brother Joe tells me that one day I’m be that person they find weeks after they died because of the “strange smell” coming from their house. I assured him that will not happen. First of all, I’m pretty sure there are enough people that I interact with frequently that would miss me if I suddenly disappeared.
“Where’s that fat guy we used to see around here every single day?”
“He’s probably dead.”
“Oh
One day they will find me dead, lazy-boy reclined, spilled glass of scotch by my side (hope it’s the cheap brand; hate to waste the good stuff), my NETFLIX queue empty, and the cat sniffing at my rotting corpse (wait, I don’t have a cat – how did he get in here?)
It may not work out like that; perhaps I will die in my sleep or with family by my side, but I am pretty sure of one thing---I won’t leave a grieving widow behind. It’s not that my looks are repulsive or that I have a personality that sends woman screaming off into the night (in my opinion). Perhaps fate does have someone …show more content…
Is it my age (soon to be fifty-seven) or the continuous meet-and-greet grew tiresome, more so after fifteen years of being divorced. I don’t have the answer. I wish I did.
I’m still a romantic at heart and I fully expect to turn a corner one day and will meet the love-of-my-life. The problem? I have to get to the corner in order to turn it.
For now it’s just me, scotch, and the ROKU box.
Not everyone is thrilled with this relationship. Members of my family wonder why I don’t want to meet someone (which is not true) and don’t I want someone to grow old with? Of course I do.
My brother Joe tells me that one day I’m be that person they find weeks after they died because of the “strange smell” coming from their house. I assured him that will not happen. First of all, I’m pretty sure there are enough people that I interact with frequently that would miss me if I suddenly disappeared.
“Where’s that fat guy we used to see around here every single day?”
“He’s probably dead.”
“Oh