Fun With Dick & Kiki

It’s a funny thing about relationships. There’s this common phenomena that occurs. Let’s just call it the Wishy Washy Syndrome. Many times you find that you don’t want to be with that person, but you don’t want that person to be with anyone else. It’s the nature of the beast.

Such is the case with Kiki and J-Fed. It’s almost like a sickness. While I’ve spent many nights lying awake wondering what ole J-Fed is up to, I believe he’s been doing some soul searching of his own. It began last week with my car.

“Whoever washed your car didn’t do a very good job. Look at the tires. They don’t even look new,” he said critically. I knew this was more of a pry than a statement of fact. For starters, J-Fed had promised for weeks to give my mommy mobile a makeover. Yet, I waited… and waited… and waited… And before long, I was 80-years-old, deaf in one ear and too senile to drive anything but my walker to the bathroom.

Anyway, I took a good look at the car and made a mental note to lambaste the car wash machine at the gas station for not whitewashing my tires the next time I drove on through. Cost of the car wash -- $7.99. Cost of J-Fed thinking that someone did it for me – Priceless.

“So who washed it for you?” he snooped.

“The drive-through car wash on the corner of Main and High,” I told him matter-of-factly. He seemed to breathe a sigh of relief upon finding out that some other man wasn’t washing my car. This was nothing new since some other man hadn’t washed my car for the last decade, that some other man being HIM.

Next comment… I told him how I had taken the girls down to the beach for the evening. Surely, someone had gone with me.

“Oh, really. You went to the beach. Who did you go with?” he asked curiously.

I went with my brother and sister-in-law J-Fed. And last time I checked I wasn’t sleeping with either one of them. Because a) that would be gross and b) probably illegal in many states. Regardless to say, what J-Fed failed to realize is that for years I had done these things alone. So why should now be any different? I guess it never occurred to him that whether he’s here, there or anywhere, my life rolls on… and it doesn’t take a man to push it along.

Of course, regardless of the fact that there is no one, J-Fed’s mind is still wandering. Take the other day when my cell phone rang and I was out in the garage. J-Fed took it upon himself to answer my phone, only to be greeted by a male voice on the other end. It wasn’t a boyfriend, a boy toy or anything of the likes, but that didn’t prevent J-Fed from looking like he’d been kicked square in the gut, especially when my good friend asked J-Fed “who’s this?” Wasn’t that supposed to be J-Fed’s line?

Now realizing that I could kick him where it counts, I took it upon myself to have a little fun. In light of his 935 text messages that I alluded to yesterday, I paid a visit to the three wise men at the local gas station. To anyone who isn’t familiar with the three wise men, they run the minimart on the corner and are devoted followers of the Kiki/J-Fed saga. I walked in with a big grin on my face.

“Why so smiley?” The first wise man asked.

“I have a new boyfriend and he makes me happy,” I said lying through my teeth. Their jaws dropped upon hearing my revelation. They were in disbelief.

“Noooooooooo,” they said in unison.

“Yesssssssssss,” I replied slyly.

They dropped some four letter bombs at the news, realizing that this may truly signify the end of their favorite unhappy-go-lucky couple. I thought of handing them a box of Kleenex from aisle four, but I restrained myself. Instead, I skipped out of the gas station with a Perrier and a grin and knew that within hours they would be informing J-Fed that Kiki had her groove back, and it had nothing to do with him.

Some days it pays to play.