Well, he started, I don't think I really ever loved her anyway. It's like, she just wasn't the one, you know?
When
I first saw him, she mused, I thought "Now here's a man I could love."
And I thought that I would. That I'd learn to, maybe, somehow. But I
didn't.
I tried, he continued, but it just never
felt like really, 100% right, you know? Like I'd do all these things for
her, things I'd got off movies or books or something. But they were
just rip-offs. And I'd feel kinda shitty after. Cause she'd go, you
know, all mushy and I-love-you-darling and all. And I'd have to say the
same things back, and I'd be lying.
I guess
after a while I began to feel some.. affection for him. His presence,
his steady income, it was nice. And he loved me so much, I could never
bear to hurt him so. Not by telling him I didn't feel the same way.
I
mean, it's not like I didn't like her. She doesn- well that's didn't
now isn't it- look half bad, and she was plenty sexy when she was
younger. I mean, the sex was alright. She made breakfast, and stuff like
that. And we hardly ever fought as well, you know? So yeah, I was happy
to have her around that's for sure.
Fond, that's
the word. On a scale ranging from Infatuation to Truly-Madly-Deeply, it
probably lies somewhere ambivalently in the middle. Or maybe it belongs
to another scale altogether, to one for pets and young children. Fond.
Like he was nice to have around, but there never was this urge to be
with him, nor even to be close to him.
But life
goes on eh?, he shrugged. I mean I gotta learn to do my laundry and all,
it's gonna be a pain. And I guess I'll miss knowing someone else's
around even when I'm reading the papers or watching a game or something.
Like there's somebody there, you know?
The little
things. The warmth of a thigh on a long journey home. Waking up to the
sounds of a man brushing his teeth. Having someone to talk to at the end
of the day. It's always the little things you miss the most isn't it?
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