I don't see the ring

I must admit that he is one of those people who I am always happy to see. But for the two years that we had spent flirting back and forth, I had never once noticed a ring on his finger.

We normally gravitate right towards each other when we find ourselves coincidentally in the same room. But the day I finally realized that he was married, I wandered into his place, and there he was ducking behind a giant piece of restaurant equipment. And there she was right next to him, talkin' out her neck like a Long Islander on her fifth joe black. And, boy, she was not cute. Lord, no, huh uh.

Curious, and feeling devious, I stepped gingerly up to the counter, and began to say good-day, my attempt to twist the thoughts of the three of us together. It was first time I ever saw him nervous. I was smiling so hard just trying not to laugh that my mouth could've split open and given birth to another head, shit.

After that point, our interactions were born out of this, sort of double life on his part. Wife around, be demure. Wife not around, pheromones, emitting; self control, gone. It was hello, verbal diarrhea. And, honestly, that's all I had wanted back: the verbal diarrhea.