By: James Bates
A tandem bicycle was the last thing Liz and I bought before she left me for her personal trainer, a muscle-bound guy named Zeke.
“I’m never coming back,” she told me as they drove off on his Harley.
“Fine!” I yelled after her. “See if I care.”
But I did care. I missed her a lot, for a while, anyway. But then I got to hate how I was feeling so I made a fateful decision: No more relationships with women for this guy. No way, no how. Not ever. I didn’t want to get hurt again.
Heartbroken at losing Liz? Absolutely. Moving on? Most definitely. I sold the tandem and bought a brand-new bike; a five-speed beach cruiser, red with fat tires that’s got a basket in front so Libby can ride with me.
That’s right, Libby. She’s my new gal, a sweet little, cinnamon colored, long hair Chihuahua. Some of my friends think it’s odd, if not a little sad, that I’ve said “No” to women for the rest of my life and fallen head over heels for Libby, but too bad for them. It’s important to me how loyal she is, especially given my recent past with my former girlfriend, who now and forever shall remain nameless. Who needs all those bad memories when I’ve got Libby?
I work from home, so I don’t have to worry about leaving her for long periods of time, and when I go shopping, I’ve got a baby sling that I carry her in close to my chest. Most people think it’s adorable, and those that don’t can go jump off a cliff for all I care. The important this is that we’re together. I hardly ever get lonely and when I do, we go for a bike ride. She loves sitting in the basket and especially likes exploring the trails in the nearby park.
I look into the future and I can see a long and fulfilling relationship with my sweet little Chihuahua. I’ve even starting to snack on kibble when we’re hanging out together. It’s pretty good, and I’m positive Libby doesn’t mind. She likes to see me happy. I can just tell. It’s like we’re on the same wavelength, and it’s all good.
In fact, I’ll let you in on a little secret: My former girlfriend has been trying to get in touch with me. Yeah, really. But when my phone rings or I get a text from her saying she’d like to get together for coffee and “Talk” as she puts it, I just can’t get geared up for it. Who needs the aggravation when I’ve got Libby?
So, I ignore my ringing phone while Libby sits in my lap and licks my face and we talk, sometimes for hours. She listens to me, and I know she likes me a lot. She’s all I’m ever going to need. I’m sure of it. I think. Pretty sure, anyway.