The heart of this whorphan is fractured in twain, and he's not sure when it'll be whole again. Argh! he writes, and argh! again. For months, he has been working up the courage to introduce the notion of a physical liaison with the local teen in whom he allowed himself to become infatuated, and just when he was feeling comfortable enough to make a move during the next fragment of alone-time she up and bones the other neighbor. Oh how much juicier and more exciting that tryst must have been, she being 16 and he 36, she with no kids and he with a half dozen, she with raging hormones and everything to gain and he with a 3 year old son and everything to lose. And her parents, with whom this author has been long befriended, decided to try and keep him out of the loop and pretend there was nothing wrong while they dealt daily with infidelity, home-wrecking, lust, deceit, shame, anger, and cops. He is not cross with them for it; if anything, it proves that do not consider him a good enough friend to want or need his help in dealing with the fact that their daughter got some snake-dick, liked it, and started going back for more.
And why should they? He is just as guilty of harboring sexual thoughts for the lass, for yearning for her company when not with her, for maintaining silly fantasies about being more than just a friend to her, for going out of his way to make her laugh, for listening to her attentively, for helping her with her schoolwork, for driving her places, and for shivering every time she bumped into him on accident. If this liesmith has learned anything about people, it is that nothing can be hid from them; all the times he could have gotten with the girl but didn't said more than words would have been able to say.
So, on this raining evening in mid May, he is still friends with the girl and her family, and with the neighbors who now hate the philandering father passionately, and, at least for the next 36 hours, he is not the lowest and most reviled person on the totem-pole. But this author's pride is intact, his heart is light, his balls are so blue that they resemble a pair of swollen plums, and he accepts the fact that he will never, ever lie with the young lady as men lie with women, and that's just the way the fucking moon rises. Argh!, then, and mahalo.
mentiri factorem fecit – 場黑麥
And why should they? He is just as guilty of harboring sexual thoughts for the lass, for yearning for her company when not with her, for maintaining silly fantasies about being more than just a friend to her, for going out of his way to make her laugh, for listening to her attentively, for helping her with her schoolwork, for driving her places, and for shivering every time she bumped into him on accident. If this liesmith has learned anything about people, it is that nothing can be hid from them; all the times he could have gotten with the girl but didn't said more than words would have been able to say.
So, on this raining evening in mid May, he is still friends with the girl and her family, and with the neighbors who now hate the philandering father passionately, and, at least for the next 36 hours, he is not the lowest and most reviled person on the totem-pole. But this author's pride is intact, his heart is light, his balls are so blue that they resemble a pair of swollen plums, and he accepts the fact that he will never, ever lie with the young lady as men lie with women, and that's just the way the fucking moon rises. Argh!, then, and mahalo.
mentiri factorem fecit – 場黑麥
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