Quick Wino Post.

I'll make this short...mostly because I'm drowning my sorrows in a bottle of wine right now. But I must say...I find it so funny. My ex. My Duckie daddy. My one- and- only- person- I'll- probably- ever- agree- to- marry- because- it- all- went- so- horribly- motherfuckin'- wrong.

It's so funny how he doesn't know me at all...not this me. The pretty fairy bitch who emerged from the cocoon of the wreck that we called marriage. So many times...I asked him to check my blog. Here I am ready to move, after nineteen months at this URL, but he won't even notice. So many times...I told him where I was published. He received the first, the only thus far, printed copy of my short story collection. The one that I glanced around my cube farm, as I printed, certain that this was the time I would be caught...printing all 120 pages of A Whore Like Me. So many times...I told him about when my first Dallas burlesque debut would be. The one where I made friends that will mean the world to me forever after.

He never read any of it. He never showed up for my show. He never bothered to try to explore the person I had become while holding our child deep within me. Some days it makes me cry. But other times...it's ever so funny. How could you not wonder about the woman you had helped create from the girl you had fallen in love with?

Another of many differences between us.