Earlier this week, the woman I love told me (via e-mail) that (for reasons that aren't entirely clear to me) she never wanted to talk to me again, and for some reason this time I think she meant it.
Today, my boss of 10 years told me (in person) that (for reasons that also aren't entirely clear to me - oh wait, I know, he's a stupid piece of shit cockmonger) he didn't want me working for him anymore.
Unable to stop the tide from flowing over me, I now find myself adrift in icy cold waters when I was only moments before polishing silver on the Titanic.
I can't afford my mortgage and home improvement loan payments anymore, so the loss of my job means I am also losing my house. I can't afford my truck AND motorcycle payments, and I'll be damned if I get rid of my machines, so this means I am also losing my truck. Since my child support requirements (for a child that isn't even mine) were bound to my job, the loss of my love means that I now have nothing left tying me to this area, so it looks like the world is my oyster.
Maybe this is good. I'm actually not all that broken up about losing the job or my things (just a bit scared), but the loss of those that I love feels like death.
In a lot of ways though I feel an enormous sense of relief mingled with abject terror. "You are not the money in your bank account. You are not the khakis you wear." How many people get a fresh start like this? I can go anywhere, do anything. It's horrifying, but exciting at the same time. This is what survival feels like. It's scary, and raw, but somehow pure.
The only decisions I've made so far are 1) to sell my house immediately (it's the first thing you do in Monopoly when you hit hard times, and I always try to live my life according to the rules of that game), and 2) not make any other decisions for at least a week until my emotions die down a little bit.
That said, I'm already starting to think about where I want to end up. Right now, I keep settling on Florida, with Seattle as a distinct runner-up (but only because of the possible jobs out that way). With no reason left to stay in New England I think it's time to head for warmer climates. A place where I can ride my motorcycles every day of the year, and where women wear bikinis all year 'round. I don't know if I'll like it much, but nothing I do for now will be permanent. And I have friends there - good friends.
All I know is that I have to get out of Connecticut. I don't feel welcome here, and I'm not sure I ever did.
I feel like my life has become the punchline to a bad comedian's joke:
Why do strangers ask you how you are doing? They don't really want to know. What would they say if you responded with "Shitty, thanks. So far this week my girfriend dumped me and I lost my job, and it's only Wednesday. What... where are you going? You asked!!!"
This is your life.
And it's ending one minute at a time.
Don't worry about me, I'll be fine. As soon as I crawl back out of this bottle, cigar clenched between my teeth, giving the finger to the Man with one hand and fingering his wife with the other.
Like Gloria Gaynor, I Will Survive.
Goodnight Moon.
Goodnight Stars.
Goonight Destiny, tonight I sleep with your mortal enemy: uncertainty. And I'm putting it in her pooper.
Edit: Fuck, I'm out of rum. Even Captain Morgan doesn't want me around.