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Reasons to dance on the table when you're drunk

I had lunch with BFF’s mom yesterday. I guess now she should be known as dead BFF.

BFF, not the mom.

So, I had lunch with dead BFF’s mom yesterday. We have to have lunch now, instead of dinner. Since the last time we had dinner together we ended up incredibly drunk and our respective husbands had to come pick us up. And, dead BFF”s mom was attempting to dance on the tables. Something that the little Mexican restaurant in Del Mar was not eager to have happen. Which is a shame, since I’ll bet dead BFF’s mom is a great dancer.

She’s a hell of a lot of fun to be around in a fuck-the-world kind of way. And yesterday we were able to really talk about dead BFF for a while. Though it was sad, and I cried the whole drive home, it was also a bit of a relief and release. I admitted that I’m mad that the husband is seeing other people. He actually started doing that much sooner than she realizes. It’s just that this current girl he’s chosen to publicly claim via social media. So everyone knows now.

I’m not just mad that he’s moving on. I’m mad that this new girl looks just like dead BFF. In an incredibly eerie way. So some of my anger comes from the fact that he gets a replacement girl, and we don’t. It’s not like she’s stepping in to be replacement BFF or replacement daughter. Just replacement wife. And, yeah, I resent that.

Why should he get to move on?

I know, life is unfair, blah blah blah.

I think dead BFF’s mom resents it a bit too, but she is not as eager to admit it as I am. R does not resent it, but she’s happy that I do. I love her for that.


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