Time it was, long ago, when I'd go out and get a little drunk and I'd write some really bad poetry. I found release and comfort in writing - in putting down on bar napkins, notebook paper or whatever else I could find, the outpouring of a wounded soul. It was really stinky stuff - most of which LM (Love Muffin) has found and stored away in a box somewhere waiting for the day I tell her it's okay to try to get it published. That likely won't happen. Like I said, it's stinky. Just as stinky as the big breakup that started it all.
That stinky breakup that inspired all that bad crap happened about this time of year. More or less. It's Springtime that brings it all back, sometimes. I don't know why my greatest failure comes back to haunt me like it does - so many years later - you'd think it would all have faded into distant memory by now - but it hasn't. It's like whoever it is that guards Murphy's Law or Karma or whatever the the current name is for the bitchslap that Life likes to hand you when your life has gone along too smoothly for too long and you're overdue for another shot, whoever that is has to give you a little jiggle.
So this time of year, sometimes, I get a little melancholy. But I think I'm done. I think it's time to tell 'whoever' to fuck off.
When breakups happen, you feel like a loser, a putz, an asshole. It takes a long time, apparently, to figure out that that ain't necessarily so. And I have figured it out. I am a good person. A good Dad, Husband and Son. And nothing is going to happen to what LM and I have now. And have had for more than 34 years.
Yeah. It takes me a while.