Was that a dream? Or did I accidentally kill an aspiring young Method actor going out for the part of the Trix Rabbit? Hey, this is LA: It could go either way. All I can say for sure is that this is not a healthy lifestyle, and that these bloodstains are really fucking with my paint job. So if anybody knows how to get back on a human sleep schedule, or how to scrub a slurry of human teeth and fur out of the steering column of a Triumph Bonneville, please hit me up.
The All-Consuming Bitterness
So we've established that my wife is The Lawgiver, and in the absence of her presence my personal life instantly dissolves into Lord of the Flies. And you know what? I'm surprisingly OK with that: I'm turning out to be pretty good at ensnaring the wild pigs that roam my apartment, and I've only had to kill two fat children with rocks so far. There were conflicts, at first, when my new, simpler, more primal lifestyle had to interface with the stodgy old outside world. Like, say I want to go get the mail: If the wife were around, I'd probably feel pretty silly walking outside in my bathrobe, then growing fearful of the whirly metal things in the sky and attacking the mailman when I got overstimulated. But now, that's just a Tuesday.
The only real problem, if I have to find one, is that I guess I accidentally got my already infinitesimal faith in humanity all tangled up together with my wife, and now that she's gone, the entire world is just a giant, sucking spiral of hatred.
That's turning out to be kind of a hassle.
And now I have to burn all life to cinders, and return the planet to innocence. You know how it be when the wife is gone.
Without somebody with a little more optimism toward our species to play devil's advocate for all the assholes in the world, I perceive every slight by my fellow man as not only intentional, but part of an overarching plan to ruin the entire universe. And there are, oh, so many slights! Because I live in LA, and LA, as you may know, has an inverse asshole ratio. Allow me to explain: Everywhere else in the civilized world, you can find about three wads of sentient dick for every 10 decent human beings. But Los Angeles is Bizarro World: The whole place is just bursting at the seams with assholes; assholes fall from the sky like raindrops; assholes cascade down the street together, absorbing everything in their path and turning it into more assholes, building asshole momentum until there's a veritable flash flood of assholes hurtling through the city, wiping out everything before it like a biblical plague.
"I OWN A BMW AND THEREFORE DESERVE TO BE WHEREVER I'M GOING BEFORE YOU."
If that sounds psychotic to you, well, congratulations on spotting the obvious. That community college psychology course is really paying dividends, huh? Obviously it's insane: But that's what single life is to me. I forgot just how goddamn crazy I was without the tempering influence of a normal, compassionate, loving human being in my day-to-day existence. Luckily, a few years ago I tricked that person into signing a contract, and now she wears a piece of metal that legally binds her to me. I have trapped my sanity and ensnared it with a ring. So if you're like me, and your natural mental state is one inconsiderate uncovered cough away from burning down a Pottery Barn, I heartily recommend you do the same.
All things considered, I'm actually glad for this newly single time, because I've learned something from it: I've learned what a good spouse truly is. A good spouse is the anchor that keeps you from being drawn inexorably into a vast, writhing ocean of douchebags and savagery.
Hey, that's pretty good; I should sell that shit to Hallmark. Maybe crochet it onto a throw pillow or something.
Buy Robert's stunning, transcendental, orgasmic science fiction novel, Rx: A Tale of Electronegativity, right here. Or buy Robert's other (pretty OK) book, Everything Is Going to Kill Everybody: The Terrifyingly Real Ways the World Wants You Dead. Follow him on Tumblr, Twitter and Facebook.
For more from Brockway, check out 5 Surprising Upsides to Getting Married and Deadliest Book Report in the History of 4th Grade.