The Phone Call

Even though there have been several opportunities to personally apologize to me for what they've done, none of the people who slept with my girlfriend have done so until this morning.

I'd been trying to reach Mr. Two for a while, and this morning at 8 AM he finally answered my call.

"Is this Jason?" I ask. "Yes."

"I have a question for you. What's the big idea fucking my girlfriend?" There's a pause.

"Who is this?"

Wow. Wrong fucking answer.

The call went downhill from there, and he stated that he was sorry (but not sorry enough to do anything about it) and had a drinking problem that could easily be blamed for his don't-know-where-to-stick-my-dickery.

I don't believe it, of course, because actual repentance demands action. It's why Catholic priests assign prayer to you in confession: it's just something to do to show that you're sorry.

I suggested he do the right thing and put a gun in his mouth. He said he'd "consider" it. I doubt he will -- scum never does -- but if there's a God in heaven, he just might.