MILK - It does a psycho good!

Some conversations are best left to be had behind closed doors. When discussing the gruesome details of an enema, hemorrhoids, or beastiality, just to name a few. I had one of these conversations with Kris the other day. We were talking about my anger towards my neurologist, and I was whining about how they didn't go to bat with the insurance company for my Provigil (keeps me awake) when the insurance said it was an off-label use for the drug. Even though I'd been on it for a year and it was working well, they needed to fill out a form explaining WHY I needed it. They wouldn't do it and I've been without it for a year. When she asked me why insurance said no, I told her rather loudly (while standing on a street corner in downtown Richmond) "Because I'm not a necrophiliac! Maybe I should become one." As soon as I said it, I knew it was terribly wrong. So, I corrected myself, "I mean narcoleptic." And then, as if there were an audience, I turned around and yelled in the direction of the valet parking at a clinic we were in front of "BUT I'M NOT A NECROPHILIAC EITHER!"

So today, Jerry and I are childless, and off of work for what has been mistaken by two people I know as "MILK" day. Apparently, their brains filled in the "I" when viewing the text "MLK Day" on the news. So, after a little poon satisfaction, we headed out to Target (where I bought my son a t-shirt that says "Ladies Man"). After there, we headed to O'Charleys for lunch. We walk in and wouldn't you know it, Jerry's been there for lunch so often that he knows the bartender/waitress by name. As we're sitting there, I catch a part of a conversation in the booth behind me that made me roll my eyes at first, but I couldn't tear myself away as the conversation got juicier – and the man started to cry. Let me back up…the first thing I heard from this couple sitting in the booth behind me was him saying to her "it's not like you're going to get divorced or anything." So, I thought maybe brother and sister or even just friends sitting there talking about her failing marriage. Not so! As their conversation wore on, ours started to dwindle because I could not be bothered with communication that might impede my ability to eavesdrop on this couple. I should mention that I never once heard HER say a word. Just him. So, he's telling her "You and I have such a good time together. We laugh at the same things, we enjoy the same things. Why can't you just leave him? What are you afraid of?" And then the crying starts as he says "I've never felt this way about anyone. I never thought I would use the word "marry", but here I am. You have to leave him. Be with me." Oh lordie – this is getting good!

Because they're in the booth directly behind me, I can't turn and look at them for fear that he'll lower his voice and I'll miss something good. So, I lean forward and say to Jerry – "Hey. Redneck?" "Yup" he says. And the listening continues. It was much more of the same – him crying, asking her why she won't leave him, her not saying a word. Finally, they get up and leave and I get my first viewing. What a couple of dorks! She looked like she hadn't her hair cut (or conditioned) for at least 3 or 4 years. He looked like a goofy redneck who might have at one time played football, but had started to let himself go as time wore on.

Before we left, we walk up to the bar and Jerry leans forward and says to the bartender/waitress "Do you know what was going on there?" She says no, she just noticed he was crying a lot and didn't want to go over there to wait on them. So, Jerry fills her in. She proceeds to tell us how they were there at 10:55, sitting in their car making out. Just going at it like kids.

As we walked to our car, they were outside of theirs continuing their conversation. He was leaning over the top of the car, obviously crying again, and I finally heard her speak. "Why can't you just be happy?" she asked him, with quite a bit of joviality in her voice. She obviously wasn't as distraught about the situation as this guy was. I wanted to tell him to walk away – she just wasn't worth it – she didn't even care that he was crying. Nor did she offer up any hopes of divorce to the guy. Here he was, pouring his heart out to her, telling her he didn't want to live without her and she just wants a fuck buddy other than the hubby. Poor guy. He should have made her pay for her own food, I would have.

I also thought I should thank them for the blog fodder. Granted, I would have enjoyed conversation with my husband, but it was too good to pass up. Don't turn your nose up at me – you would have listened too and you know it.

Just a tip to all of you experiencing difficult times. Know that there are people out there, just like me, who love to hear your drama unfold, especially since we aren't part of it. Also, you should know that those people, just like me, will blog about you, sharing it with others just like yourselves, who are going to read it. And comment on it. And our days are brighter because of it. SO, if you don't want your story on the Internet, keep it behind closed doors. People are listening.

My only regret is that the picture-happy Kris wasn't with me. She would have taken their picture, I know she would have. Probably under the guise of needing to lift up the phone to get better reception. She's sneaky like that.

Happy MILK Day to you and yours. Hopefully, you're not stuck at work. If you are, head out for a bit and eavesdrop on the table next to you. You never know when you'll be sitting next to a narcoleptic, or better yet, a necrophiliac.