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The First John

December 21st, 2012 2 comments

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I’d met him once before in passing, but he was mostly a stranger. He was in his mid-50s. A bit on the sloppy side, but not dirty. A little pudgy. Working in the sun had darkened his skin and faded his irises, but his hair had always been a dusty brown. He was balding a little on top, and wore what he had left in a way that reminded me of those monks who shave just the tops of their heads. Alcohol and cocaine (taken nasally) had aged his face in a way that made him look like a soft, stupid man much older than his years, and he took advantage of that when he could.

When my ex got us kicked out of every place I’d found for us to stay, he talked me into staying with the first truly sexually open person I had ever met in all of my 18 years. I met the woman for the first time the moment she opened her front door. A friend dropped me off with our kids and all our things…but not my ex. He was staying somewhere else. It was the practical thing to do since we didn’t have a car and his job was an hour away.

My ex is an “out of sight, out of mind” kinda guy. It really doesn’t matter how long he’s away from the “object of his affection”. The second he can’t see you anymore, he’s forgotten his obligation to you. It wasn’t long before we broke up because I found out he was cheating on me. Again. Heard it on the radio, even. The chick, who thought he was dating only her, dedicated a song to him.

His friend (we’ll call her B) let me stay, asking only that I help take care of the house and her kids, but eventually, the strain of three extra mouths (and two diapered butts) became too much for her husband to bear alone. So I started looking for a job.  Read more…

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