Thursday, August 2, 2012

slut no more

We have a word for women like that, I tell Big Dave, we have a word for women who desert their women friends and go off with some man. The word is slut. Crazy Tom, my husband's long-time bachelor friend who recognizes only his own predicament and cannot for the life see the trees or the forest left Dave high and dry at a local saloon last night. My dogs are tired after my evening shift and I send Dave out alone into the night and Tom was supposed to meet him but he never showed.  Dave had seen him a couple of hours earlier at their gym talking to some overweight woman with dirty blond hair and Dave thinks they are doing the dirty deed on Tom's saggy mattress even as we speak. Men are shits, I growl.

Back in my crazy divorcee days I had a woman acquaintance who pulled the same trick on myself and our circle of friends, I tell my husband, poor man, his eyes downcast and clearly saddened by the betrayal. My friend's paramour informed her that he would not tolerate her spending time with us gals, and we were solid citizens, all of us, but she caved. She worked for the post office so on one beer-soaked night we ordered foot-long chili dogs and mailed them.  At her station's postal box. Federal offense, yes, but I believe statute of limitations apply. Thirty years ago I emerged from my divorce a male-hating crazy person  but  I cleaned myself up and can now sit down with polite society again. Two sugars, please.

My father quickly entered into a friendship with a woman mere months after my mother's passing. Do you think it's too soon, he asked. Yes I do, I thought.  No I don't, I tell him.  None of my business, do what you need to do to heal, I am worried by your weary, grieving face. But now that woman, actually an old friend of his, has ended the relationship. My father craves matrimony and she is fiercely protective of her independence. Who can blame her, but I say nothing to the old man. Why chain herself to another needy man, tote that barge and lift that laundry basket. We should all live in solitary rooms, emerging only to ask necessary questions.

Oh, and Crazy Tom fell asleep in front of the TV while waiting to go out with Dave. Slut no more.