Upsetting
Wednesday, December 11, 2002
 
Malcolm told me that he wants a mistress for Christmas.
Twenty-five years, he said when I asked how long he’d been married.

Well, what can I do to help? I said.

Do you know any strippers? Or how ‘bout State students?

I told him I used to knew quite a few of each, but that was some time ago. It was back when lawyer jokes we’re still told. I don’t move in those circles anymore. You might say I now move in squares.

“Young women can be very trying, if you recall,” I told him. “Especially the ones who’re naïve enough to think they can change the nature of men.”

“Fighting, beer, football,” he assented.

“Right, but good luck,” I said. “They can be fun, too.”

Older now, he could tell that my heart wasn’t really in what I last said.

“Maybe I’ll just get a motorcycle,” he said.
 
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