A Bad Love Story

Suzanne and I live in small, separate but sorta equal, side-by side bamboo cages. They were pretty big when we married over 40 years ago.

The Vietnam War was on when I graduated from college, and Suzanne saved my butt by marrying me and getting pregnant. If I had gone to Vietnam and survived, I might have long gray hair and a beard and be riding a Harley. Wait, I do have long gray hair and a beard. Just no Hog and no drug problems except for red wine.

We started cranking in the walls of the cages about 35 years ago. I started working too long and traveling too much and not coming home as soon as I could have. Suzanne started being really angry and frustrated about that and really, really unsatisfied.

We tried being too friendly with other people and that cranked in the walls and lowered the ceilings of our cages. Before long, we couldn't stand up straight or stretch out to lie down and being so miserable made the cages even smaller.

All the time, we could see through the walls and imagine everybody else we could see outside our cages was happier and more successful and prettier and getting what they needed and wanted, while we languished on the rough floors of our cages and cried.

We tried living different places. Suzanne went back to law school. I took different jobs. All the while, the walls moved inward and downward.

Every once in a while, I'll open the door to Suzanne's cage and she's free to leave. Every once in a while, Suzanne will open the door to my cage and tell me I'm free to leave if I pay her forever. But we don't. At least, we haven't yet.

Now, in our 60's, maybe we can retire to adjoining rooms in a mental hospital, close to where our children live.