But You Know Me Better Than That

-Posted by Isaac

So after ten years of marital bliss, ten years all peaks and no valleys, you've gone and left me. Have we really come to this? Run off to the islands and without so much as a glance over your shoulder.  You leave me with four hungry children and a crop in the field. Well you picked a fine time. Thanks a lot, Lucille.

Yes, while you and your floozies party it up, we poor stranded orphans desperately search for solace in old country songs. Kenny Rodgers, Randy Travis, George Strait...
And that's desperate.
A love that was once deeper than the holler, stronger than the river, and now we sit alone diggin' up bones. We try to pick up the pieces from the hard rock bottom of your heart. Trying to forge on. The minutes grind by slowly, seems like forever and ever, amen.
Where's Mommy?

But you know what? Easy come, easy go. I'm leaving here a better man.  Sure, it was a tough 40 hours, but I'm on the rebound. And I've got a few things to tell you. So write this down. Take a little note...

Baby, since you left me, there's somebody new.

She thinks I'm perfect, I swear.

That's right. She's young, she's restless. She's beautiful, smart and talented.

And you thought you had that market cornered didn't you? Well think again, Ol Gal!

It's been pure bliss. 

We skip across the clouds, we climb impossible peaks.

We bound through the wilderness of uncharted emotional highs, exalting our newfound freedoms.

No more ball and chain for me, Ol Gal. Those old boring nights of story time before bed? Long gone. Quiet reading, slipping into peaceful sleep? Good riddance! In fact there's not much sleeping going on at all, if you catch my drift.

Yes, this pretty young thing keeps me hopping.

And we're on the move.
Turning heads, grandstanding our looks, our charms, our social refinements, flitting through the cocktail party of life. Look out, Hollywood!

Take that Ideal Image! Some women love "carpet."

And it's hard to keep up. She runs with a fast crowd. 

She's got her playboys, her yachts, her multimillion dollar estates.

Fast cars and fast cash. Fast friends,

fine wines and five star dining.

"Artisan" nuggets. "Artisan" fries.

A far cry from those greasy chophouses you like to frequent. The bad old days are over Ol Gal.

I'm telling you, friends in high places. You can take your cute little Garth Brooks song and head on back to the woods, Darlin'. Or should I say, Dumplin'?

You can have your bunch of ignorant beer swilling rednecks. Your lazy, fat hillbillies.

I'll take my new girl. I'll take the ballet. I'll take the symphony. We're into Culture!

(Clean up to our ears.)

But that ivory tower isn't so high, 

she can't come down and help me at the office once in a while.

She can talk business with the best of them.

And when the workday's over, when it's time to unwind, she tells me she loves me in no uncertain terms.

Sure, she can be a bit emotional, wearing her feelings among other things, on her um, sleeve.

But I like that! 

No secrets here. She's so open and honest, broadcasting her thoughts to the world.  

Oh, she tells her friends I'm perfect,

and that I love her cat...