humberthumbert

been hanging with the kids from leigh a lot. what great people.

shrink sez i should branch out my horizons because dating pool should not be limited to tiny circle of friends.

but it is for everyone else! honestly.

randall and sam are my new favorite couple. so sarcastic and adorable.

so, my main thing now is, i need to target and befriend girls that i think are hot, and try to think about dating or something.

here is the story i wrote for short-shorts this week:

...

Bride

For some months the wife had been growing colder in the bedroom. Shed sit propped up against pillows, paging through a magazine, while the husband brushed his teeth in the lit bathroom, then masturbated over the toilet with the door closed.

We cant go on this way, he said. The wife didnt see why. She loved their Sundays at the park, their dinner parties. But her magazines all advised her to give him what he wanted. She did not want to lose him.

The husband had always nursed a fondness for redheads, and he pointed as they paged through the catalog of long, smooth women.

That color! the wife, who had brown hair, sighed each time.

They compromised on a blonde, shapely, blue-eyed, miles of leg. Eight to ten weeks later, she arrived. Both were surprised at how different she looked from the advertisement: the hair thinner, the eyes a dull brown, prominent nose. In her flat shoes, she only came up to the wifes shoulder. Still, she had a pretty smile, and the husband ushered her in, gliding his hand down her back, while the wife toted the suitcases inside.

The girl spoke only in her native language: low, guttural syllables neither of them understood. She nodded as they showed her the guest bedroom, the clean towels.

The first night, she danced for them at the foot of their bed. Her body moved like water, pale limbs slinking in the dark room. The husband sat upright, expectant, like a boy on Christmas. The girl shed her corset like a sea creatures shell. Inside she was soft and white. She crawled up onto their bed. The wife watched as the girl kissed her husband, straining his pajamas. She then reached for the wifes arm to pull her in.

She was a wonder to have around the house: fixed breakfast, mended torn shirts. She talked to herself as she moved through the house washing windows, circular motion, sun streaming in. The wife lingered in stairways and around corners to catch her at work. The girls hands were large and boned, a seamstresss hands. The wife stood over her, watching her scrub the glass in a circular motion. Thats right, she said, watching the thick veins flex with the movement. Like that.

The wife began learning German, listening to tapes, thumbing through a battered booklet of useful travel phrases: Take me to my hotel. Where is the bathroom? The sounds felt strange and heavy on her tongue. The two of them sat at the kitchen table, the girl talking a steady stream, the wife repeating the handful of words she knew: restaurant, umbrella, match.

One night the husband surprised his wife with rose petals floating in their backyard hot tub. Youve made me so happy, he told her.

The wife pulled her knees to her bare chest in the tub. It was getting dark. The husband slid his arm around her. She looked around. Where was the girl?

Asleep, he said. Tonight is just for the two of us.

His hands moved to her breasts under the water. She closed her eyes and let him pose her, pull her apart.

Later, after he was asleep, she crept to the guest room. The springs groaned as she crawled in under the sheets. The body in the bed twisted, mumbled some slurred German, but did not awake. The moon hung full, caught in the tree outside the window. The girls hands were rough, and under her fingernails smelled like lemon dishwashing liquid when the wife lifted them to her face.