February 12, 2012
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Uneasy still….
But I do call K in the end. He’s seeing a new girl. I fill him in on the weekend, but he’s not listening, so I may as well be talking to the cat. I end up not telling him everything. There’s no point.
I won’t be hearing from D for awhile. He mentioned going to watch Polo. He talks about the “horsey people” he sees in the grocery store. These are the elite members of the equestrian society. They have money. More money than I do. Some of them work for it; some of them just spend their husband’s money. They show up in their riding boots and jodhpurs and white blouses, their short hair pulled back in a band. They never are friendly and they frequently look bored. They’re grocery shopping, and they wish they were elsewhere. He talks about them a lot.
It’s not lost on me that he’s just as much of a gold digger as my dad was.
It hurts to know that I don’t make enough money, that I’m not high enough on the food chain.
It mostly hurts because D is nearly 47, balding, working a blue collar job and weighs close to 300 lbs. The women he’s lusting after wouldn’t give him the time of day. He’s not good enough to shovel their horses’ shit. I don’t tell him that, but I tell him I have no interest in going to see a Polo match.
I told him to take the chili we made to work. He texted back that he wouldn’t feed it to a dog. I told him to throw it away and forget the money he owed me. Then I tossed the paragraph above in his fat, gold digging face.
I’m free….but I knew I would be.
I had wanted to take
