and last night i cried while talking about olivia.
about how much i love her and her little heart stickers.
mostly though, it was the realization - she loves me too.
she loves me too.
we were out on the deck with orion and the trees.
he kept sayin': bobby is so infatuated with you.
i kept sayin': i know. i know.
(and it breaks my heart.)
so we talked about never wanting to marry again.
kids. relationships. telling it like it is. being over fourty.
and bucket lists.
then - how attractive i was.
how attracted he was to my attractiveness.
that i am a good person.
(that always hurts for some reason).
and: geeze gillian, you just don't get it, do you?
when i told him i hadn't been laid in two years,
he covered his ears, and in mantra-mono-tone, mumbled:
you are not telling me this. you are not telling me this.
you are not telling me this.
i say: i am telling you this.
because i am not just gonna give it up. ya know.
not now. not after all of this time.
(a sort of: self-imposed
whore-looking-for-redemption kinda thing.)
i can't help but weigh the odds.
how he drinks too much jack.
and owns a kilt.