Tuesday, April 6, 2010

For Better or Worse

Big Money, that’s my car, he didn’t get his name until we’d been together for quite some time. He doesn’t like me. He says we have a marriage of convenience and that I’m driving him crazy. Whatever, I think he’s sensitive about his age spots, too much time in the sun. And he’s embarrassed about his seat being ripped. I tell him to quit being so metro on me, it’s not attractive and to take his age like a man.

Then he starts in on how I ignore him and how I refuse to do anything about our relationship until things just blow up. Typically, I just pat him and say 'there, there, ole boy, I hear you' and ask him to please cut the lights off and turn down the racket. Sometimes it works like a charm. Not this time, I’ve known for a few weeks he was onto me. I could tell he quit listening to me. It got bad, he was threatening suicide. So I took him in for counseling in hopes they could calm him down and talk him off the ledge. That therapy business isn’t cheap, guess it’s what I get for marrying an old man. Men! Can’t live with them can’t live without them. I’m beginning to understand why people just trade theirs in for a new one. Not me though, I’m a stand by your man kind of girl. Until Death do us part. He's worried this means I'm trying to kill him. I think he heard about some old flames.

Clearly he fell in love with me for my stellar fashion sense........

1 comment:

  1. It was the end of the post that got me- so, so funny!


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