This is part 2 of a short story. Read part 1 here.
Perhaps leaving town and becoming a traveling carnival freak is the answer. It has to be better than sitting here depressed, drinking a six pack every night, waiting for the girl of your dreams to pry herself off of one of three nipples.
Wait, did I just classify Naomi as the girl of my dreams? Gotta admit, that even sounds odd to me. How could she be the girl of my dreams when she’s galavanting all around town with a guy who possibly could need a jockstrap for his chest? I’ve been with girls who were the jealous type - hating that I had other friends who were women. They will always ask about your woman friends “Why aren’t you with her?”. Let me tell you - there is no right answer to that question. If you say they aren’t your type, you get called out on being judgmental. You say anything else - well, let’s just say you end up sleeping alone that night. And maybe for several nights beyond that.
I’ve also been with the clingy types. You know, the girls that need to do everything with you. “Hey doll - I’m heading out to get my colon cleansed.” “Wait - let me get my sweater!”. Maybe I should get my colon cleansed. I hear you can lose 8-10 pounds that way.
And then there is the dependent types. These ones can seem so sweet - except when you are their boyfriend. Then you have to pretend to care and be mortified about how they “went to work and some girls said her toenails were painted a strange color and that girl is such a bitch and probably wears a wig and....”
Naomi isn't any of those. Apparently she's just the cheating type. Perhaps that should be forgivable. I'm sure there is some part of this that is my fault anyway. Cheating certainly does seem more tolerable than all of the above problems. At least the indiscretion isn't personally shoved in your face.
The banjo playing is looking like a better idea. I totally would be awesome at it too.
“I’m Neil and banjo playing’s my thang
Here to brighten you day, that’s what I sang!
Your life might suck, but hey, so does mine
But at least we have only two nipples, that’s divine!”
OK, so maybe the banjo ain’t necessary. And maybe the lyrics need work. And perhaps it would work better as a rap song. Either way, there are possibilities.
And what possibilities do I have now. I could just go sit in front of the door waiting to confront her. And then when she walked in, I’d tell it to her straight. I’ll say “Look, Naomi, I’m sorry I don’t have as many nipples as you prefer in a man. I think we should split up.”
That sounds reasonable enough. I just need to grab some more beer to make sure I go through with it. How many more... Two? Three? Maybe just one extra for the hobbit in the ceiling. Is it bad that I need beer to help me through this? Well, I guess the upshot would be if she walked in with Kevin, the 4 beers I have would be enough for all of us. Me, Naomi, Kevin, and Kevin’s 3rd nipple. What a party that would be!
So this was finally gonna be it! I was going to wait up for Naomi. Where to wait though? I could wait in our old bed which is now her bed because she kept sleeping in it the one night I decided to go sleep in the guest room. I’ve remained in the guest room since I still haven’t got the apology I deserved that night. She would definitely not miss me there - barring her not coming home, which I’m not dismissing as a possibility. However, it’s more likely I pass out in there, which might be misconstrued or even invite anger - could go either way.
So the living room is likely a safer bet. I’m just going to sit in the living room chair and wait until she walks in. Maybe if I do that I won’t even have to say anything. She’d just look at me and know and just spill the beans herself! I’ll give her the “guilt” look my mom used to give me. Let’s just get some practice going in front of the mirror. Ok, maybe I can’t get this down... it looks like I just need to fart.
Alright - gonna crack open the beer and wait. And, oh! There it is - the key in the lock. Look casual - take a sip. There she is opening the door! Give her the fart look!
“Hey - sorry I’m late. You have to work tomorrow, don’t drink all those beers. Make that your last one. I’m going to bed. Good night.”
Say something dammit! "Ok. Night!"
Not that you idiot! And now she's already in the main bedroom with the door closed...
I guess the confrontation can wait for another night. And maybe there will be other possibilities.
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