Kita – Chapter 65 – Before the Game… Reality – Part 1

I take Kita’s dainty hand in mine and lead her from the restaurant. She obediently grips my hand. I like that. This is what she really wants. I can’t believe it. A young woman I mentored has now decided she wants to be under my control.

I have no experience in this arena of relationships. Anything I’ve ever done has been a mutual celebration of a mutual love and turned into a love affair or a relationship.

This is all new ground for me but at my age I’m willing to play along. I can’t imagine her actually being able to sustain this kind of relationship. But who knows? I have nothing to lose.

I think of Rebecca.

That nagging feeling of love that haunts me.

In the last year I have burned through what I think could be my finale relationship with Cherie.

I just can’t do it anymore.

The “I love yous”, the “Good Mornings”, the “I’m so horny” texts.

It’s trite, boring and cumbersome.

Everything is going so well in my life in a simple and elegant way now, I don’t think I can ever be in a loving relationship ever again.

And I’m happy with that.

I see all of the lost and lonely losers looking for long-term relationships on all of the sorry dating apps and sites.

I don’t ever want to ever swipe right on a 50 something woman who is, “so proud of her grown kids, loves working out, anything on a beach, travel, dogs, traveling and looking for the next chapter in her life.”

They’re all of the leftover losers that failed in their previous marriages. It’s all the same shit. Over and over again. All of the dating sites are littered with them and it’s really sad. After being married for so long and being middle-aged, they lack any of the skills to move on with their lives. They are all looking to re-boot what they once had with their original failed idea of what a marriage or a relationship should be.

As I edit this I watch as all of those losers tumble into a pit of loss.

It’s a shame, but they all need to realize that marriage isn’t natural to the human species. Fuck your theories about penguins. If we were penguins we have fewer choices to mate forever. We’re freezing our asses off, killer whales and Polar bears want to eat us, and we all look like shitty birds dressed in tuxedos that all look-alike.

I put Kita in the Black Uber SUV that is waiting outside. Her caramel legs are sumptuous. Tan and lithe as she climbs in the back seat. She giggles and clings to me. Playing with her phone. I tell her to put it away and she silently obeys.

Kita reclines in the leather seat. She gently raises her right leg and runs her fingertips up along the length of her shin. (Checking for its smoothness) and looks at me and smiles. She believes she’s going to get what she desires tonight.

The car glides forward into traffic. The driver knows the address.

I think about when I began this blog two years ago, I decided to tell some stories, and realized that if I was going to write a dating blog, I’d have to date again. I navigated the barren waters of dating women my age. I tried again and again to make it work.

I found that all of the women my age have rolled the dice like I did and left the table empty-handed.

My mother once told me marriage was a dice roll. You made a bet and hope it paid off.

It’s not that simple but sometimes it literally comes down to that.

But there are better gamblers out there.

If you’re not good at the game, or lack experience, or have and idea that’s been sold to you, or you think IT IS TIME TO SETTLE DOWN…Or you have a second chapter, you’re dead wrong.

You are so fucking wrong.

That was me.

I watch as the city glistens before my eyes as the Uber speeds through traffic.

I’m not saying you’re wrong in your actions.

That’s what people do. They are brought up in an ideology of what life should be and it’s simply not true.

It’s wrong.

And please don’t think I’m the bitter divorced guy dolling out his homespun bitter bullshit. I’ve already forgiven everyone. Including myself a long time ago.

 

“Where are we going?”

“Exactly where you want to go right now, Kita.”

“Kiss me.”

“You’re the breaking the rules again, but I’m kind.”

“Sorry.”

I take Kita in my arms and kiss her deeply as the Suburban rolls down Broad Street. Her tongue is minty from the trident in her mouth and we tangle to go deeper.

She grabs my hand and presses it to her breast.

“Easy, dear.”

Kita looks up at me.

 

“Soon.”

 

It rained earlier, and the city yields its best refection as we speed through traffic.

Philadelphia glistens in its brilliance at night. Maybe it hides our failures. Maybe it hides mine too. I’ve had many here. But I’ve had SO much success here in this city since I finally got to live here.

This is where I belong.

I know it.

I’m happier than I’ve ever been in my entire life here at my age living here in Philly. The Eagles won the Superbowl against the New England Patriots. Philly. A city that an actor once called the forgotten city has been resurrected once again.

That actor as Sylvester Stallone when he made Rocky.

 

I’ve been through so much. I have no interest in climbing the steps of the PMA.

The street lights and the traffic flash before me as the SUV turns onto Pine street.

How long can I do this? I’m not getting any younger. Here I am again, with a young girl riding on a line to nowhere.

This has been my whole life outside my marriage. It happens over and over with the same result. Isn’t that the definition of crazy?

“Doing the same thing over and over hoping to get the same result.”

I’m not crazy.

I think I’m a complex but simple man who has anxiety and depression trying to find his way through life without medication.

He loves beauty and women, and music and alcohol because that’s what fixes him to fly right.

No. He loves to work. More that anybody else he knows. Most of the people he knew in his previous lives were lazy. People like being off but I like to work. Apparently at anything. Just to curb my anxiety and depression. Oh look, I found a cure. It’s not a pill.

Medicine for anxiety and depression don’t work on me. Never had them, never will.

I conquered both of those fuckers and I’m really good pals with them now. Funny how life turns.

The black SUV quietly pulls up in front of my Rittenhouse brownstone.

“Honey… are you awake?

Kita smiles. (It’s not a smile of awareness, it’s a smile of enthusiasm.)

It’s been a short car ride to my house.

But it’s been a long journey home.

 

“Please carry me upstairs, Sir”

 

“You walk into this yourself, Kita”

 

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