She found that so romantic and flew into my arms, screaming yes to the skies. I moved out of my shitbox apartment and into her home.I always admired the cozy feel of her two bedroom ranch house. As I was moving my final things in, I noticed how much of a mess I was making, with my boxes of stuff and all.I sensed a thread of compassion intertwined between all that stress and trauma, willing to lend an ear to anyone that felt the same pain as her. Apparently she used to be a regular at another pool hall by her old house, winning local tournaments and making a name for herself, and she wanted to check out the scenery here.I was truly transfixed by her presence, drawn to her character. I wasn't too shabby at the table game myself, so I was excited.She loved kids but had none of her own, which was a relief to me.She seemed well kept and stable, and wasn't a bad looker either.
It was a bit odd, sure, but she had been through so much excruciating sadness throughout her life that her having a psychiatric illness is something I expected. I'll leave out the details of the honeymoon as this is not a pornographic piece.
I asked her if she'd like my number as the session ended, and she consented. If I wanted to sit and stare at a wall, I would have stayed home. She told me that the cancer was entwined with her lineage, dating back as far as the eighteenth century; therefore, in numerous fits of emotional rage, her ex husband blamed her for giving the children cancer and left.
I flipped open my phone and entered her number as she read it out. Too pained by the loss of her entire family, she moved to the city a few weeks ago and was living on unemployment, unable to continue working at her job due to the crippling depression and panic she suffered as a result of her abandonment.
Disgusted by the company of my left hand, I decided to go out to one of those speed dating events. Keep in mind, I worked at Burger King, so the best clothes I could afford were some mediocre dress shirts and tattered khaki pants I bought at Wal Mart during a clearance event.
I walked into the event, trying to display the shred of confidence I had left.
Once that buzzer sounded, I rocketed out of my chair with the speed of a gazelle. My decision was finalized as soon as she brought up her grandkids; I can hardly handle one generation of young ones, much less two.