What to make of this new serial number on the bottom of the new batch of paper cups… The last number had some mnemonic connectors to my life but not this one.
Nothing to discuss this day. I went to a bar last night in hope of connecting with a certain woman who frequents the establishment. We have made conversation before and she seemed interesting and interested. Have not seen her for 2 weeks, and last time I made this attempt the dreaded ex-gf was at the bar.
I shouldn’t say “dreaded.” I don’t have any problem with her. But she seems determined to make me the enemy for all times, at least that’s the vibe I got when last I had the contrition to care.
I’ve been through so much since our dramatic breakup. The stripper, the stripper again, the Japanese waif, the sperm derm, the woman I’d known for 15+ years who wanted to get it on at the hourly rates motel, the chatline babe from Cypress Hills, the retired NYPD…
Yet still I let myself revisit that big old mess. Something I should never have entered into in the first place. It’s back in my face when I wanted it nowhere near.
