Wednesday, May 18, 2005

Spud & Bupkis

I vented to Prudie on the phone last night, an unhesitant midnight ring to one of my nearest and dearest. We've known each other since we were twelve and I absolutely adore her. She comforted me with her reassuring voice and listened with a saintly air as I droned on and on about my newly minted status as a reluctant ex-codependent.

"Can't you just see us crying on Oprah as a couple of depressed chubblies determined to shed 300 pounds together?" I asked.

Silence. "Whatever you say, Lily. I can see you on Oprah, but it won't have to do with being fat."

I miss the intimacy found in our "armpit" forged friendship and I'm suddenly reminded of the note George Bernard Shaw scribbled to this friend Archibald Henderson:

"I have neglected you shockingly of late. This is because I have had to neglect everything that could be neglected without immediate ruin, and partly because you have passed into the circle of intimate friends whose feelings one never dreams of considering."


I must confess M. Biologique's departure has left me feeling like I've been thrown back into a sea full of prowling sharks. He kept roving eyes in check and the indecent attention to a minimum. I haven't been carrying myself with much pluck and poise since he left so everyday has been a tireless battle evading unwanted come-ons. How do I stop emitting rays of weakness to cease being preyed upon? Stop moping? Perish the thought!

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