I’ll add some context, or better yet . . . The battle begins:
Opponents:
Him – aka The Ass
Her – aka Me (or I, it gets confusing)
Battle Lead-in:
Age range-50s
Income range-Up
Empty nesters looking forward to those Cialis moments at the end of the rainbow
Looking into the same face of the man I’ve loved for thirty-one years and making the fatal/inevitable mistake of asking the wrong/right question . . .
Me: “Are you still in love with me?”
The Ass: “No”
No need for the long song, it’s too cliché to be anything BUT a cliché.
The Ass and I (Me) were married for thirty-one years.
Now we are not.
Short, sweet, and to the point?
I (Me) move out.
De-evolution begins:
I start on two swollen, slipper-clad feet trying to keep my balance as I side-step my way back to slip-on garden shoes to flip-flops to sensible 1inch pumps. From there, it’s just a hip-hop of my junk in the truck to the moonwalk in my ankle boots. Ahh, then Staying Alive long enough to re-visit the good old Saturday Night