Happy Fucking Valentines Day...Once upon a time there was a guy. This guy had a girlfriend, who he loved very much, along with her two kids. This guy spends a lot of time planning a really wonderful Valentine’s Day surprise – complete with dinner at a fancy restaurant, roses, and a beautiful set of matched pearls. He coordinates with his friend to get dropped off at his girlfriend’s work so he can surprise her with the two dozen roses before her sweeps her off to a romantic dinner at the restaurant where they had their first date. He arranges for a babysitter and gives the babysitter money so the kids can get their mom chocolates and flowers for the holiday. His friend drops him off and when he leaves the car, he says, “Everything is working out just like I planned it.” He struts into the building, looking forward to a wonderful evening.
What he finds is his beloved girlfriend giving another guy head in the backseat of her car. He takes the opportunity to beat the shit out of that married man when he stumbles out of the car with his pants around his ankles.
He calls his friend who dropped him off, who immediately quits what they were doing and goes back to their town, picking up one of the kids on the way. The friend and her boyfriend take care of the kids that night, so that the hashing out and ending of the relationship can take place outside of the consciousness of the small children.
The friend calls to check on the estranged couple the next morning to find out that the cheating girlfriend was found blue and without a pulse that morning. Talented EMT’s were able to restart her heart, but she lies hooked up to the respirator, in a coma – or brain dead. That fact won’t be known until tomorrow.
So now the boyfriend, who had every right to be angry, is ridden with guilt and prone to hysterics. The children do their homework and eat their dinner in an unfamiliar house, oblivious to the tough road that lies ahead.
And I sit here wondering what I am going to do with the kids, tomorrow or the next day. What I can do to support one of my best friends. What do you say to someone when they feel guilty over someone else’s choice? She chose to cheat, she chose to try and end her life. She showed no regard for her children or the man that had been preparing to spend the rest of his life with her.
If you all could keep my friend, M, in your prayers and the children of his comatose cheating girlfriend.
Happy V-Day to all.
What he finds is his beloved girlfriend giving another guy head in the backseat of her car. He takes the opportunity to beat the shit out of that married man when he stumbles out of the car with his pants around his ankles.
He calls his friend who dropped him off, who immediately quits what they were doing and goes back to their town, picking up one of the kids on the way. The friend and her boyfriend take care of the kids that night, so that the hashing out and ending of the relationship can take place outside of the consciousness of the small children.
The friend calls to check on the estranged couple the next morning to find out that the cheating girlfriend was found blue and without a pulse that morning. Talented EMT’s were able to restart her heart, but she lies hooked up to the respirator, in a coma – or brain dead. That fact won’t be known until tomorrow.
So now the boyfriend, who had every right to be angry, is ridden with guilt and prone to hysterics. The children do their homework and eat their dinner in an unfamiliar house, oblivious to the tough road that lies ahead.
And I sit here wondering what I am going to do with the kids, tomorrow or the next day. What I can do to support one of my best friends. What do you say to someone when they feel guilty over someone else’s choice? She chose to cheat, she chose to try and end her life. She showed no regard for her children or the man that had been preparing to spend the rest of his life with her.
If you all could keep my friend, M, in your prayers and the children of his comatose cheating girlfriend.
Happy V-Day to all.
1 Comments:
Oh God. Hang in there. Oh God.
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