He promises to come back to reality, get his head screwed on straight again, suck it up. He does ok for a while but then the numbness starts to wear h...m down and he lets himself drift. This week is particularly crappy – it’s his birthday. At this time last year he could be with her everyday. If not in person, over Skype. If not over Skype, then in notes and recordings he made to know she was smiling because of him. If not in writing, then he could remember her smell and taste and hear her laugh. “She's perfect. She loved you. And you still had to fuck other women. Why?”“Because I could,” Mitch said. “Because they wanted me. Tamara's great and I loved her, but... These other women were hot, too. It's not like I thought she'd ever find out. I never wanted to hurt her.”“What a selfish asshole,” I said, my head drifting towards my wife. “I'm so sorry you wasted years of your life on him.”“Me, too,” she purred. “Good thing I have you, Willis. I love you.”Mitch let out a pathetic groan as my. Time hasn't exactly registered in your head much ever since... it happened.Your friends and family members have been there for you. Some of them are helpful, some of them less so. They know you're grieving, so they give you space most of the time. However, one or two of your friends are really worried about you. You have been grieving for a while now, you know that much.Ever since your girlfriend passed, you've felt loss. However, as time has gone on, you're starting to feel... lonely. You want. He wipes his forehead. “Oh yeah.” I pour him a glass of lemonade from the refrigerator and lead him into the living where it’s cooler. Frank sits on my couch, bare to the waist and wearing those khaki shorts that show off his butt so well. He sips the lemonade and tries to eye me up and down without me noticing, but I do. He is still a little sweaty from the work on my fence and it glistens on his chest. “I really want to thank you for fixing that hole in the fence, Frank,” I say, then let my.