But she made no effort to distance herself. At first glance, she seemed like the kind of girl who'd look disgusted if she had to sit next to a middle-aged guy like me on the train. The gaze belonged to a girl much younger than myself. As I watched the youngsters who now laid claim to downtown, I realized someone was looking at me. I went out drinking on my own, wandering around downtown for the first time since my bachelor days. That's precisely why I felt downright merry the night following our divorce. The years I spent toiling away as a wage-slave stripped the love I had for my wife along with it. I didn't even find it to be all that strange.
She eventually confessed that she found me repulsive, and that she was cheating on me with a guy over twenty years my junior. I worked my ass off so I could support us so she wouldn't have to lead an embarrassing life of poverty. It was last summer, my wife and I divorced after twenty years of married life. I vividly remember my first time with an escort.
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