Lonely Days

The man left me a week ago today to go back to our homeland to have an art show. I drove him to the airport last Wednesday and gave him a goodbye kiss. I may or may not have shed a tear or two.

TM crossed through the security gate without incident and a few minutes later, boarded a plane that would take him away for almost three weeks.

I'm bad when I'm alone. Very bad.

I'm living like a bachelor. I now know what it's like to be a single man.

I swear, if I were a man and I were single, I'd be living like I am at this very moment.

For one, the bed isn't made. Well, my side isn't.

My side looks like I have rehashed the best fight I have ever seen.

In my sleep.

Then, before I go to work in the morning, I tidy the covers so that it looks barely slept in. (Because you never know when someone might be there to look in your bedroom right?)

I've been eating chips in bed, ( I know, sad...) Pepsi cans litter my computer desk, a wide array of granola bar wrappers and books are also strewn about.

The cat won't even hang out with me.

He hangs out in the kitchen hoping to catch a glimpse of the neighbour's cat so that they can stare and meow at eachother.

It looks like a scene from a prison movie where the couple has to touch palms through the bulletproof glass to prove their love to one another.

I play computer games in my underwear and dance in the living room in a wife beater. I also burp really loudly and then laugh.

At myself.

Then last night it hit me...

When you burp really loud and it's a good one, (we're talking Richter Scale quality), and there's nobody around to hear you, it's not funny.

In the least.