Imagine you were me. If you need visual aids, may I suggest a pair of corduroy shorts, a white tank top, dogtags. Add a blue beaded ankle bracelet and neglect to wear shoes. OPTIONAL: get a tattoo.
Now that you are ten pounds overweight, you realize that you have accidentally gone on the paleo diet, as you only shop on the outer rim of the grocery store. Every meal is apologetic in nature; each encounter with the scale is hopeful.
After dinner, you select five CD's to put into the changer. These will provide the soundtrack for the evening, setting the mood and determining just what kind of sexin is gonna take place. Oh yeah, you're alone....John Mellencamp it is, then. You choose Mellencamp's "Rough Harvest," Depeche Mode's "Music For The Masses," REM's "Reconstruction of the Fables of the Reconstruction," Liz Phair's "Exile in Guyville," and Matthew Sweet's "100% Fun."
As the sun sets you create mood lighting by using the light over the stove and a Christmas candle your mom gave you last year. You relax with Matthew Sweet for awhile, and decide it's swim time. On the way to the pool, you intentionally walk by Jean-Claude Van Damme's apartment and try to see through the blinds. He is never home lately. At the pool, you find yourself alone as always, thank god no one in Winter Park knows how to swim. Every night you do one extra lap. Tonight you are up to 42. After the laps are done, you reward yourself with a hot tub. Then back home, change into flannel boxers, and finish your day with a good book. Tonight's selection is "Lost Horizon" by Mr. Hilton.
When bed time comes around, you climb into that California King-sized bed. You don't need sheets. You don't need nothing. you lay back and stare at the ceiling, wondering what Sharon's doing tonight. The phone is right there. You reach out for it, close your hand around it in the dark, and then just hold it there. You remember her smiling, gap-toothed, her heaving chest, her wild wild hair. You remember how you used to lay on your stomach and she would sit on your back, pressing her fists into your shoulder-blades. You let go of the phone. You don't need nothing.
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