October 1st, 2008. That’s when it started. I drove to work, walked into my office, sat down at my desk, booted up my computer and as soon as my fingers touched the keyboard, I began to sob. And from that point forward, I sobbed every day for a year. From October 1st, 2008 to October, 2nd 2009, I sobbed. For one entire year. Every single day.
At the time, I didn’t know why I sobbed. I just sobbed, and it wouldn’t stop. It was like vomiting out the emotion of a thousand years, and I was surprised I had that much in me. I didn’t like it. I wanted it to stop.
On Christmas morning 2014 I woke up alone for the very first time in my entire life.
But I wasn’t sad about it.
The stockings were full. The candy was out. The gifts were under the tree. I even left the Christmas tree lights on overnight. Like I always do. But this time I took my Christmas Eve sleep to the couch, right next to the Christmas tree. That year, I needed to sleep beside Christmas.
I needed to wake up beside Christmas – my first Christmas morning alone.
I’m pretty much fucked. That’s my considered opinion. Fucked.
Okay. Those aren’t my words. I just read them in this book, The Martian. But still that’s how I feel. Moreover, I just started that novel, but, now, I don’t even know if I’ll ever be able to finish it. My phone is almost dead. My book is on my phone. I even had to delete that book app, and pretty soon I could be stuck in the mucking fother boondocks, shoulder deep in mud. No food. No water. No Google. No book. I very well may be doomed. Just like that guy in that novel who was left alone there on Mars for a while.
Here I sit naked, computer on my lap, in a Korean Spa in downtown Los Angeles writing this story. My butt cheeks are spread-out on top of a towel laid out on some pillow, legs together, outstretched taut in front of me so that no one can spot what they don’t want to see.
I’ve been keeping it a secret. But, I just can’t keep it to myself any longer.
I’m in love. I’m in love with my imaginary boyfriend and his name is Travis. His name is what I first fell in love with. Everything else I fell in love with came shortly thereafter.
Travis Lee Worter. I call him Trav for short. I often tease him that he needs a “Jr.” or a “II” or a “III” after Worter. When I first teased him, he sorrowfully bowed his head and whispered to me that he no longer has his father.
For purposes of this story, I’m referring to, specifically, “The Kids” ages 21 to 29 years. The untamed. The energetic. The romantically idealistic ones – sprinkled with just a bit of cynicism and barely crumbs of fear.
Oh…Just, basically, the ones who drink a lot of beer and can buy it for themselves.
Honestly. I don’t know that there is anything funny that comes out of assembling a piece of Ikea furniture.
The first time I ever put a piece of Ikea furniture together was years ago at a law firm where I worked. I was somewhere in my stupid-old 20’s. It was a small firm. A very, very small firm. My title? Jack-of-all-Trades. Apparently.