The Lucky Man

How did I get so lucky? Mr. Lucky, to hit the fucking jackpot, and find the one woman that I could love like crazy for forty years, raise two nice children with, a woman who would then kick me out, and then tell me to stay out in a myriad of sarcastic, hurtful ways, for years, until I finally gave up and filed for divorce. Cruel to be kind! (Pace, Nick Lowe.) Lucky, because that was exactly what I needed, probably, to be abandoned, like my parents had abandoned me before her. And quite a few friends, too. I asked for it, no doubt. My White Whale, my Moby-Dick, abandonment. I chased it! And it hit just when it would hurt the most. Perfect timing! When it's was too late to recover. Past retirement age! I married a genius. Thanks, honey. Perfect. She shoots! She scores! Touche, M.F.

But I made it easy, didn't I? What a sap. Right up to the end, when we were still together, I'd wake up and look over and think, how did I get so lucky! This fabulous woman loves me and sleeps with me every night! And what's worse, I still love you. I still dream about us. I just hope that you're happy, although I don't think that you are. Happiness isn't for everybody, don't you a agree? Your interests lie elsewhere, I think. Whatever turns you on. Bon chance, mon cheri. But thanks for everything. It was great while it lasted.