Somehow I found myself in a Red Roof Inn on the outskirts of Casper, Wyoming. I should have known that the "kinky, friendly ghost with grandpa issues," was not on the level. Probably shouldn't have been so furtive describing myself as "a distinguished, ambidextrous intellectual, seeking wild humiliation and willing to pay dearly for it."
Didn't much matter by that point. She had my Prius and my American Express card and I didn't even have a broken heart. Or bus fare home.
If this stuff rhymed, I would have had a song or two. I've married for less. Several times!
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