Lone Star – Part 2


For Part 1 – Click Here.


I woke up at around 11.

11 AM. Come on, I can’t sleep away the whole day!

Ever since I’d taken to the solitary life, I slept much better. Perhaps it was due to the fact that I didn’t have much to worry about. People complicate everything.

You don’t believe me?

Let’s say you got a new job. Or got promoted. You excitedly share this news with people you love. And guess what – half of them do not sound happy – even if they try really, really hard to. Because we live in a world where we compare our success, our happiness with that of others. It is a constant competition.

It happened with me all the time. I was…or rather still am an ambitious gal. Back in the day, I naively thought that people would feel happy to see me do well but I saw over time, some of my so called best friends look sad or indifferent or even envious. Every time I got a new job or I made a new boyfriend or the time when I bought my first house. Sigh!

Now – I didn’t have to worry about that.

My phone buzzed. Stella, my assistant had sent me my updated work calendar. Yes, I did have an assistant. Unfortunately I could not cut off all human contact. Stella was 30 years old and a hot mess. But she was a good assistant. Once a year, we had a nice ritual of going for a company retreat. Stella & I.

It would usually be one of those plush resorts which weren’t too crowded. I’d swim and work on my tan while Stella would get hammered and then cry about her current fiasco of a love life. It would have been quite entertaining, if it wasn’t so sad.

Also, she didn’t want my advice so I just listened and nodded. Every.Single.Year.

What did I do for a living? Well. I was a virtual life coach.

Sounds funny, right? But you won’t believe the amount of money that people are willing to pay to hear the things that they already know. Throw in some wisdom, make a plan, follow up with them…the job was a breeze. I loved to see people succeed.

Maybe because at this age, I had enough to retire. But I didn’t want to. At the age of 40, I had a house of my own. I had a back yard where I grew a lot of vegetables plus a couple of fruit trees. I had a small coop where I kept hens.

No, I did not have a cow. I wasn’t a farmer. But I liked doing whatever I could on my own. It kept me active, healthy and relaxed.

I had a gardener – Jean. Jean was 21 years old, with six pack abs and a glittering white smile. I know what you are thinking but stop right there. Jean was as gay as they come.

As for me, I’d given up on love. I’d had a couple of casual hook ups now and then because hey – I was human. That was usually when I had to fly out of town for work.

And today was one of those days. I smirked. Hey – birthday girl, birthday sex, right?


To be continued.

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