06-01-02 - 8:17 a.m.
he called me too early. he was wide awake and i was still asleep. he always mistakes grogginess for sexiness.
if i made you sad yesterday, he said, i'm sorry.
i don't need your geriatric reality, i told him. i have my own. it's called 'a wife'.
old people love nostalgia. i was just reminding myself to enjoy the moment, instead of waiting until i'm a decrepit old fool, bragging to other old farts in the home. 'thirty years ago, when i was seventy, i had a passionate love affair with a beautiful woman young enough to be my daughter.' and they're thinking, sure, pal, take your fiber therapy and get back to the fucking shuffleboard court.