Writing the Thing

I have a thing I need to write.

I really should write it, but how do you write the thing you can’t bring yourself to write?

Instead I’m sitting at the pub trying not to ogle the table of ten good looking men that just showed up for what can only be post-game drinks. Ten sexy, manly, men in jeans.

You can tell it’s getting cooler when the men show up in jeans.  Tight jeans.

Did I mention there were ten of them?

Tinder tells me I’ve already eliminated everyone within a 10km radius.  How inappropriate would it be to walk over and check out who’s married or not?

I shouldn’t.  Besides, I’m not exactly on a mission to shag my way through Ottawa.

When the kids are gone… It’s lonely.

I’m happy I truly am.  But happiness doesn’t really warm the sheets now does it?  The house… it feels so big, so quiet.

So I sit here.

Watching the ten sexy men in their tight jeans drinking beer… Remember those cartoons with the cat looking at the bird but really seeing a perfectly cooked tender turkey?

Yeah that.

I’m staring at a table, seeing yummy turkeys I could claim for my own if I had the will the go hunting, waxing poetic on the virtues of men in jeans, instead of writing the thing that needs writing.

Maybe the real reason I’m feeling so lonely these days is the realization that my marriage was a sham.  Imagine finding out your husband – the love of your life, the high school sweetheart you reconnected with – wanted to leave you when you were actively trying to get pregnant… the first time.  7 years he hated me, resented this life we built, gave me 2 amazing babies…

7 years I fought for our marriage, and what for?

Never change?

Even him.  Even * he * couldn’t love me, truly love me, without wanting to change me.

So when you start realizing men only seem to give you attention when they’re horny you start to wonder… what the ever loving fuck is wrong with me?

And that’s when I feel lonely.  Sitting at the pub watching these gorgeous men laugh and share stories over beer and wings.  Would it really change anything, if one of them came on to me?

Probably not.  So I really should write the thing now.

Except the guy who went for the tall skinny blonde instead of intelligent conversation just walked in, so maybe I’ll stick around just a bit longer.  Who knows…  and I may have a small hankering for turkey right about now.

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