Friday, November 11, 2011

Listless

Off and on throughout the day, I've found myself thinking about Wife's new boyfriends. And I just keep staring vacantly into space.

It makes no fucking sense. God knows I no longer care how Wife shops her body around. I don't want to stick with her for the long term. I sure as hell don't want to fuck her any more! She's become ugly and almost totally dysfunctional; meanwhile I have D, who is attractive and a sexual dynamo and who somehow (utterly unaccountably) adores me. Yes, D is many hundreds of miles away. But she's still incomparably the better choice.

Only, ... in that case why do I feel so defeated? Why is it so hard for me to pick up and do the next thing, whatever that is?

Admittedly there is lots going on. Work just announced a major reorganization whose impact nobody seems to understand yet, all so that we can focus on our customers more effectively. And I'm sure that's just dandy, although I have to wonder then what was the point of our last reorganization, or the one before that? Were those in order to help us focus less effectively on our customers? Or didn't they have exactly the same motivation this one has, which must mean that they failed or we wouldn't have to reorganize again? And so this gives me confidence in the latest reorganization ... how, exactly? Just because we are smarter than we used to be, so now we've got it right?

But when I found myself staring vacantly at my computer screen or wandering the halls aimlessly at lunchtime, it wasn't the reorganization that I was thinking of. It was the two new boyfriends -- the ones I don't care one whit about.

Maybe I just wish she could have waited until Son 2 is out of the house, because I don't trust her not to drag him into her network of lies and deceit. Maybe I just resent having to think about her at all, so any news of any change in the way she lives is automatically unwelcome.

Or maybe I just have no fucking clue why I'm acting like it matters to me, when all the reasons in the world tell me it shouldn't ... er, I mean doesn't.

Time for another glass of vodka, and then bed. I guess. Or whatever ....

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