art imitating life???

They run the gamut… some married happily, some married—yet barely hanging on, and some newly divorced, and yet some eager to be hitched. Indeed my friends are an interesting bunch. And on top of that, I’m reading “The Interruption of Everything”—where the protagonist Marilyn has just been told by her husband, Leon, that he’s been creeping (although Marilyn knew that much already). This particular story makes me think of my friend Desiree, a member of the some married-yet barely hanging on crew. I’ve been getting’ vibes for a while that she’s a little unhappy for awhile. And I have a feeling what her husband does when he’s not with her is part of the problem.

So, Desiree informs me that her husband, Charles will be taking some night classes—bring the verve back in his profession. Cool, I’m all for honing and preserving professional skills. However, Charles classes are 30 minutes away--- and he feels the need to have an apartment. Huh? WTF? And if me being inexplicit isn’t working, then let me say this, I do feel like the apartment is a refuge to perform extracurricular activities that ain’t got shit to deal with school.

Oh, and did I fail to mention they have kids. Nah, ni**a your ass needs to come home and help my girl with y’alls chil’ren every night. To my chagrin, Charles has the apartment.

Granted it ain’t none of my business. But as I told ya before I have an opinion on everything, although the older I’ve gotten I tend to keep ‘em to myself, except when I share them with y’all.

Now Desiree and Charles have been married for 15 years—so kudos to their union. But, I must say if those are the conditions to being married—I want no parts in that.

So, it is this passage, an exchange between Marilyn and Leon from Terry McMillian’s novel that made me wonder if art is imitating life—this might have well been an episode on Desiree and Charles.

‘ “What time did you say you’ll be home?”
“I can’t really say just now…”

I nod, knowing he’s not really waiting for an answer. I listen to him ramble on but I don’t hear a word he’s saying. What I’m really thinking is that Leon’s phone call- a cliché if ever there was one—most likely means he’s on his way to an economy hotel (he’s a miser, but wouldn’t be caught dead in a motel) where in a couple of hours he will, if he hasn’t already, order some room service (at least a decent bottle of Moet), and his much-younger-than-me, slender and sexy girlfriend who probably works in a cubicle somewhere in his office, is spraying on some kind of popular perfume after having just come out of the shower so that after he arrives and imbibes a little he will have …. Loosened up enough to enjoy watching her suck his dick like he’s in some porno movie and to be fair and make sure he can repeat this escapade, he’ll also manage to go down on her the way he used to go down on me … ’

See that’s some bullshit, but good thing this is only art imitating life or is it.

cheers,

Bellini