I’ve found, through trial and error, that the best way to feel melancholy is a quart of tequila, some Four Aces sherry, and a gram of crystal meth mixed with a couple of black Kashmir hash brownies dipped in powdered quaaludes.
And it’s times like this that I sit and look out the window and wonder.
I wonder how the players’ wives are doing.
Are they comfortable?
Or are they feeling down because their husbands are always fishing or at the golf course?
I want them to know that I’m thinking of them, and if I can round up a big house somewhere, they’re all welcome to come over and we’ll light candles and listen to Miles Davis, and if they feel any discomfort anywhere, they can tell me and I’ll massage it.
Women love good listeners, and I can pretend to be one of the best. I’ll listen so intently, my eyes will glaze over. And if they want to model clothes they’ve brought just in case they decide to have a pajama party, I’ll watch and compliment and take close-up pictures, if that’s what they like.
If it’ll help them sleep better, I’ll go for a midnight swim with them. And yes, if they want to wrestle, I’ll do that too.
I want the wives to be comfortable.
It’s all about them.
I really can’t say what happened. Maybe the players’ wives called when I wasn’t home. I might have deleted their emails my mistake. All I know is, I haven’t heard from them after my outstanding offer to look after them when their husbands are on the road.
Look, wives, if you don’t want to see me, that’s fine. I don’t really understand it, but it’s fine. But frankly, you don’t know what you’re missing. Is it about money or cars or clothes that you need and your jock husbands won’t bother about? What, they won’t watch chick flicks with you, or talk about inner feelings? The insensitive bastards.
You must know that although I have hundreds in the bank and two cars, one that runs and another that almost runs, I can give you even more. I just need to think about it for a bit. And although I’ll buy you clothes if you really insist, I don’t really see the need for it and maybe we can bypass this. But I’ll supply the housecoat.
I’ll watch chick flicks with you, and just for fun you could bring several other wives along! You know, to keep the conversation flowing. And inner feelings? Just pour your heart out. Sure it’s possible that I’ll be bored, but I’ll do it for you because that’s the kind of guy I am. As long as the conversation doesn’t last too long and Breaking Bad isn’t on. Heck, let’s watch Breaking Bad together. It can’t get more romantic than that.
But I’m saving the best for last. You might be interested to know that I’m really well-endowed, and to prove this, I’m enclosing a photo of me peeing when I was little. Have a look. It was big then and well, you can only imagine now.