I used to love to read those articles when I was a kid. The Bucket list. Things to do before you die.
I can attest to have done them all. I really can't say I have achieved anything except the right to express the joy I feel in sharing this story with you.
The ability to remember this moment and giving a piece of art that reflects how people sometimes feel after the experience of joining that club.
It is almost as empty as a one night stand. I just sit back and think about it and wonder what the women may feel after they experience those moments. Are they really upset with themselves when they are the ones that agreed to the exchange?
There were so many things I did growing up that make me laugh now, but the women are married and have children and for the sake of there children I keep my mouth shut. Except well underneath it all do they remember? Do they ever think what if I see him again? Will I rip his heart out, or take him out to dinner? Could we ever be friends after the lives we lived before we committed ourselves to one person?
I remember the days of being in the club and the nights spent in the bathroom with some random woman I met after a few hours of dancing. This was the liberation front was it not? Well where is she now? Am I supposed to care?
Secretly I do, I think about them and wonder if they are doing alright and if I saw them I would give them a hand in whatever it is they needed. They were friends before they became heart breakers.
Casanova asks:
How did heart breaking become transformed into the confidence booster for the liberated woman?