Why Don’t You Call her What She Is – Your Octopus *Whore*

Craig, I knew when I married you that your heart belonged to the sea. But motherfucker – I thought you meant that nonsense metaphorically. I didn’t know I’d be sitting home pining while you flippered off to meet some cheap little round-heels mollusk.

 

I’ll admit I liked the change in you when you first started diving – you’d been such a pain in the ass, moping around the house, moaning about “adrenal fatigue,” like that’s even actually a thing. You seemed perkier, you had a little bounce in your step – more fool me, for not realizing that the color that was back in your cheeks was the flush of new love.

 

What has she got that I haven’t got, Craig? Besides eight mesmerizing tentacles, the ability to change color and texture, and a disinclination to speak? I’ll dye my hair any color you want, but I’m sorry, buddy – I’ve only got the two arms, and neither of them are covered in little suction cups. And if that’s your bag, well – I guess we don’t have much to say to each other anymore.

 

You watched her mate, Craig. I know you did, because I saw you reviewing the footage. With tears in your eyes. That floppy blob made a cuckold of you – how’s it feel? Does it hurt terribly? Well, at least she stuck to her own species, pal. I was betrayed for an animal that looks like a sneeze.

 

At least you were around when her babies were born. Yeah, yeah, I know – you I were in the room when I gave birth, but were you really present? As I recall you mostly looked pictures of manatees on your laptop – I guess your tastes have become more refined. At any rate, I hope you pay more attention to those million little octopus babies than you did to our son when he was young.

 

And we haven’t even gotten to the part where you splash your love all over Netflix for the world to see. Where I have to read article after article about how “profound” and “remarkable” your relationship with this creature was. The care with which you caressed that thing’s… head? Body? For all I know that’s her tongue – you haven’t touched me like that in years. That hurt to see, it really did.

 

But bringing our son to meet her – that was really the final straw. I live in your house, Craig, I share your bed – and you bring my son to meet your new girlfriend?  I hope Netflix paid you well, honey, because you’re gonna have to hire a very expensive divorce lawyer.

 

See you in hell, Craig. I’m off to eat an absolutely monstrous plate of calamari.

 

-Swati

 

 

 

 

 

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