Conversations 10

"I only noticed recently that whereas before her affair I preferred her type - tall, slim brunettes, I now have a preference for short, cute redheads. I used to be all about a girl's tits - now I look at her face first, and then her ass. And that's just the obvious. I shy away from women who share the same profession or even just a certain trait with my ex. I question what they tell me, and I even question my own reactions - which makes me a lot less spontaneous. I find I'm shyer and less confident. I don't hold hands much with women I go out with.

"And through writing these 'Dear Abby' stories - as you so nicely put it - I'm discovering more and more of the little things that have hidden like spiders in the dusty corners of my brain.

"I go back and read stories I've put out there, and I suddenly realise 'oh, there's something else! There's something else that's really small, but obviously bugs me'. So it gives me a chance to fix it. And if I can't fix it, then I can at least acknowledge to myself that it's there and affecting my choices and actions in life. So I can put counter-measures in place. All those actions I unconsciously started doing or not doing, I've consciously reversed, which makes my life a whole lot happier."

"Why not just go to a shrink?" Sean asked. He was really paying attention now.

"The same reason you wouldn't go to a surgeon to get a splinter removed. It costs a lot of money and time, and if you've found an equally good way of doing it, why bother?"

"But hang on, if all those stories are for you to remove these 'splinters', then why bother putting them online. Why don't you just store them on your computer and reread them now and again."

I thought about that.

"Because I'm not the only one who's had a hand grenade tossed in their lap. Think about it. From my research, after marriage 60% of men cheat and 50% of women. And when you think about it holistically, if you consider cheating to be romancing someone while supposedly directly or implicitly being exclusive with someone else, then 98% of people have cheated and/or been cheated on. Think about that."

"Jesus, is that a fact?"

"I don't know. I made that last one up. But I'm guessing it's about right. So my situation has to ring bells for someone else. And if my Dear Abby stories can help someone else, the same way that other people's stories have helped me, then why the fuck not put them online? Haven't any of the ones you've read helped you?"

"A couple of them helped me to spank the old monkey," he offered.

I couldn't help laughing. "Agh! Shit! Now I have to get that image out of my mind."

"I could show you, if that would help," he said. "If we're all about helping others..."

"Eeuw! Fuck off, you horrible, disgusting little man!" I laughed.

"I take exception to being called little."

"And I have zero interest in proving it one way or the other. But at least you acknowledge the horrible and disgusting?"

He pretended to think about it. "Yeah, that's fair. So maybe I will read your crappy stories. A couple are okay, I guess."

"Maybe stick with the ones from other writers that have Special Forces in them. Some of those are actually very good."

"Yeah... Wait, what about moon men? Or Mars? Or yeah ... Star Wars type stuff! Maybe you could write about spacemen and women having orgies in space while battling aliens and going where no man has cum before."

"That's probably already in there, somewhere."

"Really? Okay! Well... have fun. I think I'll go and read for a while."

He departed in clouds of ... well, if not glory, then enthusiastic idiocy in his wake.

I thought that I should perhaps try and write something to help him, and turned back to the keyboard.

It's good to have friends.