July 26, 2012
Questions
1. After you met and had sex in a motel room at lunchtime how did you face your respective
partners that evening?
2. How many dinners out did it take before she decided she wasn't a lesbian after 50 years?
3. Did you ever feel sickened by your actions?
4. How did you face the motel desk clerks? Did they get to know you?
5. How can you face your children?
6. Did you feel any remorse going to my favorite play and one of "our" restaurants while I was in
Columbia caring for sick children?
7. Who left the KY jelly under my bed in Manhattan, assuring that I would find it?
8. Do either one of you look in the mirror before leaving the house in the morning?
These are, of course, purely rhetorical questions. I don't expect that I will get an answer. Because there are no honest answers. Only justifications. Honest people just don't act like that. But I figured I deserved a little self-pity on my birthday. I was only going to give myself an hour or so to wallow but considering the pouring rain and the fact that I can't go to the beach I might have to take most of the morning!
Of course, your title today takes me back to the 1963 Leslie Gore hit song. You are entitled to, and should, shed some tears if only to address the fact that there will be no "to my wife" birthday card. The many people who do care for, and about, you have sent their wishes. Celebrate... buy yourself a gift and may I suggest a great treat? Drive to the Norwich Inn & Spa and spend part of the day being spAHHHHHHed. Mani-pedi, massage, lunch on the porch. Look on-line for info.
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