Nearly Unlucky

(a clarification of prior events for the classy American hero Dustin Bradford)


I liked that she would be entirely disruptive to my life. I liked the chances she had taken and at the time I believed she knew what she was doing, or knew enough. When I saw her in her country I realized she did not know a thing. She lacked style. Her adventures had only succeeded because of luck, and I did not want to be around when that luck ran out. She watched too much television and fell asleep with it on. Her taste in music was poor and undeveloped. She had never read anything in her life. I knew more about her country than she did. Her knees were bad which gave her an excuse to never exercise. Her upper lip bothered me a lot--it was too thin for the lower lip. That upper lip really bothered me. She was 30 years old. She had gained weight from her dancing days and she would gain more. She didn't dress well enough--she'd try to match too many colors and didn't understand certain colors did not work together. I don't like to explain these things to a woman. Her instincts were kicking in and telling her to build a home and make children. She had become very Danish. She smoked cigarettes all the time and smoked pot and hash as she lay in bed watching television. She got drunk whenever she could. It would have been hell there with her. It would have ruined everything I was doing. My training would have been interrupted and lost.

But about her upper lip, even when I was thinking of going I didn't want to go because of it. I thought things might get serious and when they did could I ever really look past that upper lip? Because after the fucking got routine I would have to look at her carefully, and I would see the thin, thin lip that doesn't match the lower lip or even belong on her face and I wasn't sure I could stand it. It took me months to pretend I could do it. But it was just pretend. And then it didn't work out anyway, so I got lucky.