“Honey, there are more fish in the sea. Throw that one back and find you a good one.”
Sure, that is what THEY say. You know the ones. Married for eleventy hundred years. Married back when naughty was boys pulling girls' pigtails, men were manly men, and the women cooked three squares a day…instead of opening three square boxes and heating them up (my favorite cooking style to date). And, you met your intended at a social and not via social networking. Married when marriage was truly forever and the photos to prove it were in sepia tone.
I am now nearly 42 and divorced for ten. Fishes my age don’t live too much longer and most don’t stay single that long….well the ones worth catching and keeping anyways. All the others flailing around are charter members of the Catch and Release Program (them being the ones released). There may be “more fish in the sea”, but at my age my sea has shrunk to a bracken fish-hatchery filled with nothing but in-bred options. All the keepers have already swum upstream snatched by all those “fly” fishermen. I am left with those too lazy and too weak to even bother swimming in the right direction out of the tank. Hell, the few that might have gotten caught in some unsuspecting net were tossed back quicker than it takes a fish to flop to his death in a fisherman’s basket.
Just in case you’re wondering, I don’t believe there are any good ones left in the sea…or the hell-hole, water hole I have been floundering in. So I think I might just stop fishing all together. I’m going to take up something more worthy of my time. Like falconry. Now that is something on which I can put my stamp of approval. Hint: in this fable, I am the keen-eyed falcon with the razor sharp talons….watch out my pretty little prey. Here comes the delusioned divorcee.
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