Comedy
I dunno I'm still high. We all got high. Went about as you'd expect. Also listened to a lot allegedly royalty free future funk that's present through most of this so sue the YouTube, not me. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WVOH00wVFbc&t=3035s if you wanna check it out without us. It's very upbeat and nice. There was a song sorta like that on the new of Montreal album. I know it's not cool to like of Montreal anymore I guess? Or is it? Every time I go to their shows I feel like an adult chaperone for all the teenagers running around in fancy colors while I'm just there in my button up shirt and cardigan. Let's go see of Montreal when the pandemic's over guys, yeah? I threw up again in this episode. Brandon fell asleep I think. Jennifer has a revelation. verything about Joey was ideal in what one might want in a secondary partner. He, too, was a dad with a spouse and a full-time job. He enjoyed hipster cuisine as much as I did, making delicious food with vegetables from his garden, and finding hole-in-the-wall restaurants all over town that served up the sort of meals you’d be proud to smugly post about on Instagram. In the bedroom he was fun and experimental, but not overly so, for my tastes. On dates, he treated me like a normal human being -- we were both polyamorous people with family, not fetishized experiments waiting to be easily pursued and captured by excitable single people or ravenous swingers. Joey was warm, with big blue eyes, jet-black hair, and soft, pale skin. He was tall, and lanky: completely non-threatening, kind and gentle from his personality turning outward onto his appearance. His wife, Sara, was quiet but polite, with auburn hair and dark freckles across a tan face. Their six-month-old baby girl was a perfect blend of both, with freckles and tufts of black hair. The tinges of jealousy soon began to creep in, however. The assumption that people who are polyamorous have conquered envy is rather incorrect, but even so, this was not a romantic jealousy that I was experiencing. I was envious of their house, their massive wine cellar, their house full of archaeological wonders and authentic mementos from a world they had extensively traveled. I was envious of their upper-middle-class home, jobs, their horseback riding and golfing hobbies, and sporadic trips to international resorts. I was envious of their log cabin two hours away in the mountains -- and when they decided to move out there permanently, I was happy to use it as an opportunity to end the relationship. It’d only been casual anyway, right? A year later, Sara was dead: a rare, fast-spreading breast cancer. I felt crushed for her baby and for Joey, and my envy turned into the sort of guilt that has no place to go except the inside of your stomach in sharp twists and nauseated regret. My husband, Samuel, and I attended the funeral in a sad room of marble-velvet-embroidery furniture, which was crowded with respectable, mournful people who all seemed equally shocked to be there. Joey moved away from the mourners giving out their sorry-for-your-losses, walking toward me with a curious stride. We embraced awkwardly, but deeply, and I also told him I was sorry for his loss, because what else is there to say? “Hey,” he said. “Thanks for coming,” he leaned in closer. A line of people waited behind me at their chance for the performative apology, knowing there’s not a single word they can actually say to take away the fact that the person in front of them had just lost the mother of his sweet baby girl, who would likely be unable to remember her at all. “I hope we can talk later…” he said, trailing off, distracted by the crowds of meaningless well-wishers. I leaned in to hug him and told him: “Contact me any time. If there’s anything, anything, I could do… Please let me know.” I meant it. READ THE REST https://www.olneymagazine.com/features/dead-black-lingerie