on the phone
the other day
to shoot the breeze,
he sounds bored and lonely
after going through
a bad divorce with his
Russian pay for order bride,
Dasha.
she arrived in a wooden
crate
that he picked up in
the Port of Baltimore.
i ask him, what's up.
i don't understand women,
he says.
i thought she was the real thing,
the love of my life.
yes, there was a language
barrier, and she only knew
how to boil potatoes,
but we seemed to get along
otherwise.
i mean there was a thirty
year age difference, and it
did get annoying with
her calling me Daddy all the time.
but i liked her, i really really
liked her
even though she was here for
only three weeks.
this is going to take me a while
to get over this, you know.
i mean, how do you get over
break ups, i know you've been
through a ton of them.
therapy, self-help books,
meditation, exercise, taking up
new hobbies, stuff like that
i tell him.
isn't there a short cut, i don't
want to do any of that.
i feel too old to get back out
there on the dating sites.
all the women look like my mother
at this point.
what about LastChance.com
it's a dating site for old people
who are giving it one more shot.
a lot of desperate people,
with neuropathy
and mental disorders, but
a hey, beggars can't be choosers
at this point, right?
yeah, he says, i guess so.
by the way, did i tell you she took
my cat with her too?
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