A professional player

A professional player - Cecil Bunnell

I can’t fully understand how a woman’s brain work. Or maybe I am too stupid to understand how my ex-wife’s brain works. I have tried countless time to see things the way she did, but I always failed to comprehend the reason behind the act. What might have seen as a genuine or accidental act, was actually a decoy situation with a carefully planned outcome. She played me like a master conductor directs his orchestra. Nice and smoothly. She played me on all levels. 

After all the shock and drama were done, I saw the naked truth. This woman was brilliant. Despite the feeling of resentment developed within the past year, I do have to admit that there is something about her that still attracts me. I am not speaking about her physical appearance. It’s the whole package I am drawn to. I can’t grasp what exactly makes her so irresistible, but I know for sure that it makes me weak as towel, that you use and throw on the washroom floor after the shower.

Call me crazy, but  I just can’t take her out of my mind. This mix of love and hate has to do with all the things we have been through,  actually that she put me (us) through. I can accuse her of many things, but I certainly say that boredom was never an issue on her presence. She’s the type of woman that would ask you to ditch your job and jump in a plane to Rio, just to escape the morbid feeling of falling into a daily routine. 

She did mention that she did not like to cook nor do dishes when we met. I told her that I was fine having sandwiches for the rest of my life - or room service. When I think of it, there were so many signs I decided to turn a blind eye to. Within our first year of marriage only there were three red flags that should have made me understand I was being played. My friends saw them and they mentioned it to me on three different occasions. I told them they were crazy, that they were delusional and even jealous. It turned out they were right and that I was the only one who refused to believe the truth. 

Now when she’s gone living with her latest toy, the guy who fixed my Water Line Repair Toronto, I started to think more clearly. Perhaps in another half an year, I’ll be laughing at all this story. For the moment, I can’t.