Curious Dealings With the Feminine Kind

Yeah, it’s weird. I’m not sure what keeps happening with Pippagail. The same exact episode repeated itself again on Thursday. After dinner we sat down on the sofa and I had my little speech memorized about how we seemed to be growing apart because she’s allowing the pressures of her job to stress her out and forget about what’s really important, which is the bond that the two of us share, but instead all that came out when I opened my mouth was

BITCH MAKE ME WAFFLES

I just can’t tell you why that came out and not the part about the growing apart and the job stresses and the bond. It was pretty much an exact repeat of September and the deep talk we were supposed to have about our finances, and the fact that we would have to start doing some serious budgeting in order to be able to afford that vacation to Paris we had always dreamed about. We were sitting in front of the computer and I had literally booted up the budgeting software I’d bought from Staples, and instead of saying, “Honey, I want you to take you through this so that we can better get the things we want with the money we have,” out came

BITCH MAKE ME WAFFLES

So again, I’m at a loss. This is the seventh time this has happened, and frankly, I keep getting louder and more forceful when I say to Pippagail

BITCH MAKE ME WAFFLES

I can’t help but think I’m failing somehow to move our relationship forward every time my good intentions are wiped out with my last-second departure from the pre-arranged conversation. All I have to show for my efforts are two broken noses and six nights sleeping over at my brother’s house. But I can’t seem to stop myself. Maybe I have that disease, that what-do-you-call-it, the thing where winter brings you down a little bit. Because, you know, it gets dark early and the lack of light does something. That could be what it is. Or I could eat more grapes. All I know is that I truly do not possess the inner fortitude at this time to alter my behavior through natural means. Kind of like my secret effigy-burning phase two years ago. Man, it just felt so sweet to burn an effigy when absolutely no one was looking. That feeling that I didn't need to be surrounded by others to enjoy it....it’s tough to describe. It made alcoholism seem so pedestrian somehow, you know?