He came up to me, my friend

and he said, “My life’s not working out.”

“Tell me about it.”

I want prestige, fame, wealth beyond my wildest dreams, women, dames…”

“You said women twice.”

“That’s because I want women twice as bad as everything else.”

“Okay. Setup an online dating site.”

“But you don’t understand… I don’t just want any woman—only the most beautiful woman.”

“That’s hard to find—how will you know?”

“Basically—all the guys will want her, but she is too good for them, and chooses me.”

“I see. Are you crazy?”

“Probably. And my goal is impossible, because I can’t undo my nature.”

“And that is…?”

I adjust to the seasons, like a hibernating grizzly bear. In the winter, I get fat. In the spring, I get stressed and eat. In the summer, I want sex—but the women are totally disgusted by me because I’m HUGE, and in August, I finally become a stud, but their interest wanes in Autumn, like falling leaves, and I am left with those bare trees, under a lonely moon, until I go to sleep again.”

“Why can’t you just stay the same?”

“I go with the flow. I don’t swim upstream.”

“You have a heck of a problem.”

“I know.”

“Have you tried religion?”

“Yes. It’s self-flagellation. I don’t know why, but so many guys get-off on confessing their sins in public.”

“It might be good for you.”

“I’ve got enough pain in my life. I don’t need to do it to myself.”

“And how about success…? Why don’t you get a better job?”

“Because they’ll steal my time. It’s mine. All those hours will be wasted, working for someone else.”

“You have a heck of a problem.”

“I know.”

“What are you going to do about it?”

“I’m going to be a writer. I’ll read my poetry to women in coffee shops. I’ll travel. I’ll give talks. I’ll be the toast of the town.”

“Good luck with that.”

4 thoughts on “Shoulder to Cry On

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