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Tuesday, March 08, 2005

9.23.1996

I'm depressed. When I got home today I called Jennifer to see how she's doing. As she picked up the phone and I said hello, her tone of voice was like "Oh, it's you. Leave me alone". She is always like that. Jennifer never asks me how I am, how the day went, or what I'm up to. Obviously she has a lack of interest in me. The only time I got a cool phone call from her was right after I sent that dozen roses. Now she's back to normal. I suspect the reason why she is with me is because she doesn't have anyone better. Wouldn't surprise me if she's been working on that while I have been away from home though.

The Butcher was asking me some personal questions at work the other day. He wanted to know if I was married. I told him that I wasn't. He muttered, "You're a smart man". I thought about that all evening after work. Am I smart for not marrying Jennifer? Am I smart for not being married to any woman? I don't know. It's all too confusing most of the time and I am unsure of what to do about it. I am tired of all the let downs and frustrations with her though. I need some peace in my life for a change.

Since Jennifer seemed so thrilled to hear my voice I said, "You call me if you want to talk to me then". I'm willing to bet money she won't bother before I leave for the airport this Saturday morning. Earlier this afternoon I was looking at new suits. I was thinking it would be nice if the first thing Jennifer saw when I got off the plane back home was me in a new suit looking sharp. Now I don't think I'm going to bother with it. I'm fucking two states away, I call to see how she is because I genuinely care about her and the only answers I get out of her are short and filled with contempt in her voice. I ask her how her day has been. The reply is "Fine". How's your work going? "Fine". How are you feeling? "Fine". Do you miss me? "Yes". That's how every single one of our phone conversations have been the past three months. It's like I'm speaking with an android. This shit pisses me off.

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