I don't want whispers behind my back.
I don't need scantily clad neighbors looking for their next victim.
I don't want to be the sad widower that everyone feels sorry for or feels like they can 'make better.' Even the guys in town.... I don't know what to say to them. *sigh* But I guess I'm going to have to figure it out quickly...
"Good Morning, Neighbor!"
"Uh..Hi...Morning."
"It's so nice to have another guy around town. You play poker?"
I glance at my watch, hopeful that its time for the twins to be home...its not. "I...haven't played...in a while. I'm not really good at it," I heard my mouth say. That's good...means my brain is at least acting human for me. Skinny Jeans seemed pleased with the answer. If this were a cartoon, I'm sure I would have seen dollar signs in his eyes.
We chat some more an suddenly Tiny Shorts drops to the ground, grinding out some push-ups. Confusion hit me first...then the woman came sashaying past me. "...76, 77, 78," grunts Tiny Shorts. I snort and quickly cover it with a cough. "Dude...is she looking? Is she watching?"
"Oh yeah. I'd run after her if I were you." Skinny Jeans looks up in time to see his friend running after the poor, innocent girl. He gives me a smile and a shrug before launching into a story about this new app he had just downloaded on his phone. I glance toward the house, hoping to see fire and smoke billowing out...anything to get me away from this asinine conversation.
I'm going to have to pull out the big guns. "Hey man...I gotta go. If I'm late picking up the twins, they are going to be so upset."
Skinny Jeans nearly falls over himself as this look of awe comes over his face. "DUDE! Twins? That is so HOT!"
Wow...some people. "No...my twins. My kids. They're 11...and definitely not hot."
Well, that attitude shifted quickly and he can't seem to get away from me fast enough. "Er...no...of course not. I'm sor...I'm gonna go."
"Hey...wait. What about that poker game," I throw his way as he runs after his friend.
I barely hear his answer since he doesn't even bother to look back. "I'll text you."
Then, in a bizarre moment, a bubble of laughter makes its way out of me. It was just the ridiculous look on his face! People look up around me and, for once in a very long time, I don't care. I'd rather them see me as the crazy guy than the pathetic widower.
Time to make supper.
