Poor Kyle and I were having a little bit of marital weirdness a couple of weeks ago. I don’t really know what else to call it besides marital weirdness. To say it was marital strife makes it sound more divorce-ish than it was, but to blow it off as just a little glitch in the hitch would be unrealistic and overly bubbly and I’m just not either of those. It was just weird, is all.
Below is the beginning of a post I drafted during that week, but which post I stopped writing when I realised that to tell the story right would probably cause undue strain on our already-stress-fractured marriage, and to tell it without all the exciting details (the safe way) would just leave you all disappointed and feeling left out and lonely and possibly violent.
So I just gave up, as I do with most every unsolveable problem in my life.
Never did finish it, but for lack of anything better to post, and to let you all know I am not in fact dead, and because honestly I sort of liked where it was going (how could it not be kind of awesome with references to Titanic and all-you-can-eat tartar sauce), I’m posting it below.
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If you were to ask Poor Kyle what it’s like to be married to me right now, he probably wouldn’t say anything.
Because he’s smart.
But if you were to read his mind’s response to such a question, you would probably see images of black holes, buildings going up in smoke, and sinking ships.
And that desperate-looking fellow clinging to the aft rail of the lido deck there? The poor guy who looks about like he’s ready to say his last Hail Mary and fling himself overboard while a string quartet plays a touching rendition of “Nearer, My God, to Thee?”
That is my husband.
And that crazy-arse ho shoving people out of the life boat to make room for all her luggage?
That is my husband’s future second wife who he marries after I die because I’m trapped in the midnight buffet room where an enormous sculpture of shrimp cocktail fell on me during a feeding frenzy, which I was enjoying when—
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But you get the idea.
Hangin’ in there for another couple of weeks,
cpsf
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