Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 78466 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 392(@200wpm)___ 314(@250wpm)___ 262(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78466 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 392(@200wpm)___ 314(@250wpm)___ 262(@300wpm)
Sam: Why does she have to be tipsy? The husband is so gross that she needs beer goggles to think he’s hot?
Jory: Uh. Fine. So she’s sober as a judge and leans over and makes a pass at him—
Sam: Because clearly, she’s missing something in her own life, and that’s why she’s going to games with this woman’s husband to begin with.
Jory: Ah-hah!
Sam: Like this was hard to figure out. They should have some kind of weekly outing to either see a game, be that hockey or football or basketball, or all go see a movie or all go have dinner. And Janet’s significant other, or whoever she’s dating, comes along as well, and this woman who doesn’t like hockey—she has to go too. We all hate doing certain things that our mates love.
Jory: Like fishing.
Sam: Fishing is a very good example.
Jory: But I’ve gone.
Sam: And complained the whole time, yes. But I don’t take single women or wives or husbands out fishing with me.
Jory: Though this brings up a good point. Because if Aja wanted to fish with you, I wouldn’t care, and I’ll bet you Dane wouldn’t either.
Sam: I would agree.
Jory: And if Dylan wanted to fish with you or Abe or really any of my friends…I wouldn’t care.
Sam: You’d be thrilled that you never had to go again.
Jory: There is that.
Sam: Uh-huh. But you not caring, what does that tell you?
Jory: That I trust you and them without question.
Sam: But you didn’t like Palmer.
Jory: No, I did not.
Sam: And we were only running.
Jory: Every morning, Sam. He was at the front door at five sharp, and he’s young, he’s, like, maybe––
Sam: He’s twenty-five.
Jory: See? If he’s out clubbing and getting laid but he’s still at our door at—
Sam: He’s real serious. He’s not a club kid.
Jory: Oh, so what? Guys who spend their nights at—
Sam: You’re flailing, and way off topic.
Jory: I don’t—
Sam: You didn’t like him, you asked me to stop running with him, and I did.
Jory: Yeah, I know, and I felt bad at the time.
Sam: But then when he came over here two weeks ago––
Jory: In the rain! It was raining that day.
Sam: ––when it was raining and tried to kiss me on the porch––
Jory: He’s so lucky I wasn’t home.
Sam: ––we both knew that you were right. You felt like something was off with him. You had a weird vibe, your intuition or whatever, warning you that something was amiss.
Jory: Which there was.
Sam: Which there was, yes.
Jory: Don’t sound so patronizing.
Sam: I’m not. Really. I respect your intuition greatly. It kept you alive in some tricky situations over the years.
Jory: Yeah?
Sam: Of course
Jory: I didn’t—it felt strange to let you be alone with Palmer.
Sam: He’s a nice guy. He just got the wrong idea.
Jory: You’d think the ring on your finger would let people know where you stand on monogamy.
Sam: I let people know where I stand. Period.
Jory: I––
Sam: And for the record, guys who used to dance all night in clubs are my favorite kind of guys.
Jory: Is that right?
Sam: You know it is.
Jory: I wouldn’t let you go to a game with anyone once a week without me.
Sam: I wouldn’t want to. You’re my favorite.
Jory: Same.
Sam: I know.
Jory: Wait. That’s wrong.
Sam: What is?
Jory: I would totally be fine with you going to a game with Duncan every week. Or Pat and Chaz, or Aaron.
Sam: Pray tell, what sports does Aaron Sutter enjoy?
Jory: Don’t sound so snide.
Sam: I can’t wait to hear this.
Jory: Now I don’t want to tell you.
Sam: Wait. Lemme guess. Polo.
Jory: That’s correct.
Sam: Of course he likes polo.
Jory: Samuel Thomas Kage.
Sam: Polo. Ridiculous.
Jory: Okay, so after all this, our advice is for this woman to have a talk with her husband—and maybe even her friend—and tell them that there’s no more games unless it’s a group thing.
Sam: Yep. I don’t believe that men and women can’t be friends because I have women friends, but everyone has to be on the same page.
Jory: Yes.
Sam: C’mere.
Hannah: I can’t see. Come on, you guys…you can’t make out in the middle of…God. Just sit down and—no, Pa, don’t look at the screen!
Jory: I’m not. For heaven’s sake, I’m not five.
Hannah: Oh, just kiss him already and go back to your chair.
Jory: No. I’m going to sit right here next to him.
Hannah: Just be quiet.
Jory: Okay.
Hannah: Dad, you missed the whole part where…wait.
Jory: Oh no.
Hannah: What did you say? Did you just say that the guy you used to jog with made a pass at you on our porch?!
Kola: What? Who made a pass at Dad?
Jory: Everybody, watch the show.
DEAR JORY:
I love my family so much, but the day-to-day of being a father, a breadwinner, a husband, and a son of a chronically ill mother who lives with us is slowly killing me. I hate my job, and it’s eating me up inside, and I’m honest enough to say that I’m taking that out on everyone around me. I don’t want to leave, but I’m nearing my breaking point. Please help.