GETTING OUT

I had to get away from the small town where my ex- lives with the girlfriend, twenty years younger than me. Every time I go anywhere, I scan the crowd for their faces, petrified I’ll see them, arm-in-arm, happy in their gauzy Hallmark kind of love.

I don’t scan the crowd for their faces here.

During my divorce, I was so stressed out that, in the middle of the night, I would toss and turn in bed so much, I counted it as aerobic exercise.

When the divorce was final, I ended up hiding from life until I was practically frozen. I knew I couldn’t stay one more night in my chair, watching television in that empty house.

I had to get out. So I went to Paris.

Men of the 2nd arrondissement

Men of the 2nd arrondissement

Apparently, when I get out of the house, I really get out of the house.