The Breakup

I hate breakups.  

I’ve never been good at them.  On the giving or receiving side.

But it’s time.

I need to break up with Igor.  My Physical Therapist.

Why, you ask?

Well, besides the fact that my shoulder has recovered (thanks to Igor), it’s because he and I have gotten too close and it’s interfering with my marriage.

He knows way more about me than my husband does.  And he’s a much better listener.  

Except when he’s not listening.  

But he’s much better than Dave is at pretending he’s listening.

With that said, Dave has improved his listening skills in the past few hours since I caught him redhanded.

“Hey, Dave. I’m going to take Kevin with me to Food Lion.  I’m getting a Rotisserie Chicken for dinner."

“Okay.  What do you want to do for dinner?”

Igor would never be that bad of a listener.  Or a pretend listener.  Maybe I should break up with Dave.

Of course I’m 30 years older than Igor.  There’s that.  

Plus he’s married.

OMG!  I hope he wouldn’t expect me to have his baby.  I’m too old for that.

Although, there was that 60 year old invitro mother I saw in the news a few years ago.  So a pregnancy is not out of the question.

On second thought, I think I’m going to go ahead and break up with Igor.  I'd never have enough energy to raise a teenager in my '70s.  

Sorry, Igor.  I guess I’m staying with Dave.