Don't Ask Questions You Don't Want Answers To.

Yesterday, I was leaving the gym when I saw It.  It has more scruff now but I could tell just by glancing at It that It's still an asshole.

I knew it would be trouble and I was right.  I saw It, looked past It and did not register any recognition whatsoever.  It totally stared at me with those deceptive little eyes.  The blackest eyes.  The devil's eyes. 

I got in my car and drove home, a bit shaken but mostly just irritated that It's going to my gym now.  That's my gym, fucker.  Go to LA Fitness with the rest of the hooligans.

Sure enough, It texted me later.  A shiver went down my spine.  What does It want???  Can't It leave me alone?  We had a horrendous, rageful, ridiculous run.  Once I finally untangled myself from It, I was free and light.  160 well toned, muscular pounds lighter.  Took me a long time to have It removed.

"Why don't you ever call me anymore?"  It wanted to know.

It should have been asking, "Why did you spare my life?" or "What in God's name did you ever see in me?"

I thought for a while; I came up with some clever responses.  I also thought I would take the high road and just ignore It, deleting Its text into outer space.  Instead, I decided to tell It the truth.

"Because I stopped drinking."

Silence.

Perfect.