This is from EMOTIONS: Not Your Mama’s ABC’s:
Under the letter U (the Prologue):
Personally, the most annoying of all things is nagging. Since my wife would never engage in such activity, this is the imaginary scenario: she says something which is totally false, established as fact and universally accepted by all on the planet but HER. I, er, I mean this imaginary person, can show her online, in print, video, TV, it doesn’t matter. She will still insist she is right! It’s like her insistence on using Google to direct her movements. Drives me absolutely nuts. Imagine you are driving on a country road and your destination is the heart of downtown. But she doesn’t care. You might say something completely innocent like “Gee, honey, it looks like we are going away from downtown.”
“No. Google said fifteen miles and we’ve gone only fourteen.”
That’s when this imaginary friend of mine strangles her.
Like a puppy’s curiosity. Like a newborn baby’s crying and pooping. Like a mother and father’s love for their children. Unrelenting like a bettor’s thirst for action. Like my love for Notre Dame football. Like an alcoholic’s taste for the grape. Like life and unfortunately, death.
Like a New York woman.
Now before I’m accused of bashing, let me state that I absolutely adore New York women. Their straightforward, no-bullshit-get-the-job-done (or I got nothing for ya) attitude I consider sexy as hell. I am sure I could never be actually married to one, as I like the attitude on occasion as opposed to unrelenting.
I once had a New York girl tell me “you’re the kind of boy no girl wants to meet, but every girl has to meet, at least once in their lifetime.” After 45 years, I still don’t know if that was a compliment or a shot. I guess that’s another thing I like about New York women…”
God, you are beautiful. As usual. On my way here, I was thinking about our first date. How you made me laugh. I felt so comfortable. We must have laughed for hours. Who’d have thought that fifteen years later you’d still be laughing—or at least pretending to laugh—at my corny old jokes? Of course I remember the dress. I BOUGHT it for you in Cabo San Lucas last year. Now THAT was a day to remember. The thing I remember most about that day was getting caught in that afternoon shower with you. I recall pulling you close and kissing your sweet soft lips. The water was perfect. Deep. Turquoise blue like your eyes. I remember the pact we made that day to move away to Cabo…To move away…Move away…
“Please move away from the casket, son. Let the others see her too.”