Checking my phone, the guy on TV is talking about the massacre at that airport in Turkey. I’ve been to Turkey, although it was a long time ago, it must be said. I remember just being a kid, and some girl no older than me, well, she just stripped naked and jumped in the pool next to me. It was a nerve racking thing to happen, and as I’m telling her about it over the phone a few minutes later, she just laughs and goes on about the place where she got her nails done earlier on. Towards the end, she tells me not to trim my pubic hair, but I can’t help it. As soon as she hangs up, I’ve got the trimmer in one hand and with the other, I’m lifting my cock out the way doing my best not to cause an accident. Years ago, I read about some guy who cut it off with a careless slip of the hand. I don’t want to be like that- don’t want to be like that at all. When she comes around, we cook a stir-fry and sit in the garden eating and talking about my bad habits. Y’know, the normal stuff. Passing wind, my excessive use of pornography involving amputees. Anyway, when we’re finished, and it starts getting cold, we go inside and make ourselves comfortable on the bed. Removing my trousers, she slips her fingers into my boxers and then pulls them down. Taking one look at my smooth balls, she lets out a scream and slaps my face. Shocked by her reaction, I listen to her vitriolic attack somewhat bemused. Why did I do it? Why did I go against her wishes? I’m not sure, I reply. Bullshit! Bullshit! You’re fucking another girl, aren’t you? Just admit it! You’re screwing some other girl, and you don’t want to catch her scent in your pubes! I bet it’s the blonde you work with, isn’t it? That little bitch with the tits?! Going down to the kitchen, I have some wine while reading an old newspaper. She remains upstairs, throwing something about and stamping on it. I suspect she’s cheating on me, but I’m not that bothered. I’ve done it to her before, and although it makes me feel bad, it kinda doesn’t. Adultery is neither here nor there as far as we’re concerned. She kicks up a fuss, but only because she’s carrying a shit-load of guilt herself. Until the one I’m waiting for comes into my life, this is all just a matter of killing time.