http://uk.news.yahoo.com/24022006/80-132/colombian-sentenced-ride-bottom-slap.html You know you've been married too long when something
like this happens.I had forgotten all about the incident until I read
about the unfortunate Colombian.I have never,before or since,
pawed,stroked or slapped a strangers arse but on this warm
Summer afternoon myself and the mot were driving through some
heavy traffic.The cars were moving yery slowlywhen I noticed,
about three car-lengths in front,standing on a narrow traffic-island,
a really attractive ,shapely young woman wearing a micro-skirt.I
can't say what I was going to actually do but as I rolled down the
window,Malicia hissed;
"Don't even think about it."
She knew what I was thinking about even before I thought it.
7 comments:
Wives are always quick to complain, but how many of them would stand on a traffic island for their husbands to grope? You should have told your wife: "it's either her's or your's".
My wife not only reads my mind, but projects her thoughts at me. There I am, minding my own business, watching tv or something and suddenly she wants me to take the bin out. She hasn't even said anything but I can tell by the way her breathing shifts and the way she's staring at me across the room, even if I'm turned away from her.
I can tell from the way she looks smug when I get up and announce that I'd better take the bin out then, that the thoughts came from her rather than me.
I try not tothink about it too much as it's a bit unnerving to be honest.
Is that a picture of the Mrs Barney? Nice outfit. Nice everything.
You should be ashamed.
You've not allowed comments on your other post, so I'm forced to leave one here. Of course, you can delete it if you wish.
The worst part for those left behind from a suicide is that there is no chance to say good-bye, no chance to ever put their mind at ease that it really was the best option. Those left behind are haunted for the rest of their lives at the fact that they were unable to even be given the opportunity to help, or to offer support in the final days.
It is the ultimate selfish act. I wouldn't call it cowardly, because a coward would not go through with it, but it is as selfish as you can get.
You know, as well as I or anyone else who has grieved a close one's death, the utter feeling of loss and helplessness. In order to ever be able to come to terms with such a loss, you have to be able to say good-bye, and while it is extremely difficult to go through before that person dies, it is horrifically difficult, and for some people impossible, to do so afterwards.
The suicider denies the possiblity of saying good-bye to the survivors, and that is the most selfish act in the universe.
Goodnight AB.
Re: the suicide post. I began a comment but it turned into something much more - it will be posted on my site in a few hours...
AB - your suicide mail shocked me to the core. I have personal experience - a fellow student in my final year of senior school committed suicide by hanging herself in her parents garage. She was 17. She was one of five art students in our art class considered to have exceptional talent - but she struggled with her other subjects and wanted to drop them - this was a month before A levels. We were friends, and close fellow students and she and I were preparing our portfolios for interviews for Slade and St Martins (art schools). On the day she committed suicide, we had had a long conversation about our portfolios and laughed a lot. Apparently, before she went to the garage she had a phone call which upset her, we were never told from whom. She left a long detailed letter which stated she had been planning it for some time and that the world would be a better place without her. The physics teacher who had given her a very hard time the previous week took two months sick leave after the suicide as she felt it was her fault. All of us in the group felt we were guilty in some way. She was a difficult, mercurial personality, but we all loved her - she was the first to wear the most outrageous clothes, the first to smoke pot, the first to get laid, the one who made the more irreverent remarks to teachers. It is many years ago now, but never a week goes by that I don't think about her and wish she was still around. Her paintings were wonderful, dark and expressive. We were told she was suffering from bi-polar - another name for manic depression, which is treatable. Her parents have never recovered - they moved house within a year, but have a memorial service in the same church every year. She never knew how immeasureably she enriched the lives of her fellow students - when we meet we always discuss her and remember the things she got up to - we laugh and cry still. I'm crying now.
What can I say S.B.,I'm sorry to have rekindled your pain,but hopefully I also went a little bit towards explaining your friend's state of mind at the time.
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