It has been years since we’ve departed company, but I must admit, you were the most beautiful woman in the world during our relationship. I still remember spotting you in the Gelato shop, ordering the Riviera Chocolate Supreme. You were dressed in a cute yoga outfit that filled me with delight. And your blond hair was straight and pulled into a sovereign pony tail. I now wish you never dyed your hair any other colour, believing that those changes reflected your chameleon like personality.
So why should I desire to communicate this with you? It is because of the odd coincidence I’ve encountered regarding the fitness instructor you ran off with during our marriage. The other day, I spotted him at a grocery store on his way to the checkout, and to my dismay he was holding a container of Gelato Ice Cream.
The sight flooded me with discord. The dirty accomplice who had helped my wife ruin our marriage was now about to enjoy the fancy dessert that was a fond part of our first encounter with each other. Angered without restraint, I overcame his thuggish football build and approached him, intending to remind him that his hunger for my Zelda came with the cost of wickedness. And I was prepared to be wicked back, but in a just way.
I planned to grab his Gelato and throw it on the ground, kick him below the belt, and call him a dog of a toad for stealing my wife. Yes, the onlookers would have labelled me the provocateur of my beating, but they would sympathize with the rattled bones of a married man who had been wronged by his capricious witch of a wife.
Zelda, I never could have imagined a sweeter day than meeting you at the Gelato Shop, and to my good fortune the encounter with your so called lover failed to reduce the placid memory.
In the name of honour, I was about to grab the oversized toad’s shoulder with a raw palm. But then he met up with a woman at the front of the checkout. And to my surprise this woman wasn’t you (It was almost to my regret, as I wanted you to feel my frustration).
This woman was athletic, pretty, and slightly shorter than you. The detail that made me laugh out loud was her choice in dress. My dear, she was wearing a yoga outfit, like you did, when we first met. Your beast of disruption has a type, just like a serial killer hooked on a lonely framework of insanity.
You must understand, that since we have been apart I have appreciated the women I cross paths with, and in a modest way. Though I am still searching for the secure relationship we all deserve, my modesty gives me a confidence your beast will never overcome.
He aggressively seeks a particular type of woman, perhaps a doll his little sister owned during his youth. And I could never except this. I experience the magical character of a woman’s presence, no matter what she is wearing. I remember your Yoga outfit because that’s who you are, not the category that suits a monster’s psychopathy.
In the end, if you haven’t heard about this new woman in your beast’s life, I’m glad to tell you about her. And for a modest reason. I still care about you, and you deserve to be as well informed as I do.
Regards,
Micheal Midas.
The Mysterious Bluffs Fiction Podcast 