Shame on me, I should have known; the new Porsche, working out too
much and constantly fishing for compliments with "I look pretty good for
my age" over and over and over (he didn't, no matter how much he worked
out). You starting dying your hair and then the final straw: when you looked at
me, I felt your eyes say "meh"!
I knew then we wouldn't grow old together
and be like the old couples you still see holding hands as they walk together
down the street.
When I met you, you were wearing khakis
and polo shirts. A nerd from the east. You weren't cool before you met me.
You called me the recalcitrant teenager when all along I was just
being myself and you were becoming the teenager-again.
You will never know how difficult it is
for a single mom to raise a teenage son, alone. You left at a point in his life
when he needed you the most. An almost man; he needs a man to learn how to be a
man. But how could teach him anyway as you were becoming a teenager again?
I remember a time that feels so long ago,
before we had children we would go out to dinner and observe over the hill men
having dinner with naive young women. We would smile and comment on how nice we
thought it was that they were taking their daughters to dinner.
If I ever run into you with your new amore, I will try my best
not to congratulate you on your new daughter!
Here is the link to my latest Cheap
Fashion Fix, a visit to a consignment boutique!
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