The Hole in My Soul

I sent this to Old Guy on August 22:

Screw it. I'm too drunk to be embarrassed, so I may as well tell you what the kid wants so you will understand why I cannot supply it on my own. She wants you to go out and buy some fat guy clothes so there will be room for me to fit in there with you. She wants to go everywhere you go and be able to feel you next to her all the time. What do you say, Old Guy? Are you game? I'll take a shower before we don the fat suit. I'd wear deodorant if you want me to. I would even be able to refrain from smoking so long as I could always feel you next to me. I'll even wait outside the door when you want to use the bathroom or be alone with your wife, but I would need you to come back and get me right away after those things and not get upset if you found that I had been lying on the floor with my face pressed against the crack under the door mourning for you the whole time. Deal? And do you see why she is alcohol poisoned? And don't say psychiatrist. I can't deal with Rambo right now.


Maybe the bottom line here is this - Old Guy cares that I feel this way and he was nice about it. He even sounded a little like he wished for a minute that he had some kind of fat suit to invite me into. But he doesn't. New Guy does, though. He has a fat suit and has invited me in. I've been with him for almost a whole year now and he has been very nice to me. I am too tired, hungry and cold to resist his invitation.