By David Rose

I’m walking on a cloud. I just got a call from Rachael at Card Holder Services. She used to call me once or twice a week, and then, for no apparent reason, she stopped.

I took it pretty hard. I know she was just a disembodied voice, a robo-caller programmed into a distant computer, but I believe she had feelings for me. I know I had feelings for her.

As days stretched into weeks I finally had to face the truth. I’d been dumped. It really wasn’t anything new. I’ve been dumped a lot in my life, and for some pretty strange reasons. I’m not just talking about toilet seat positioning.

One girlfriend kicked me to the curb because she “couldn’t embrace my philosophy.” Did not see that one coming. Didn’t even think I had a philosophy, which, when you think about it, is the very definition of no philosophy.

Another soon-to-be X told me my pheromones were all wrong. I drew a blank on that one as well. I was driving a forklift at a shingles plant at the time and between the exhaust fumes from the lift and the stench of the shingles I didn’t think my pheromones would come into play at all. There was nothing to be done for it. A guy can work on his philosophy, but pheromones are a done deal.

I tried to get over Rachael but I just couldn’t let her go. Other women called me – Rebekah inquired about my credit score, Susan offered to bring me up to date on Medicare, and Tiffany suggested a male enhancement product I might find useful. It just wasn’t the same. In my mind’s eye, Rachael was a goddess. If Playboy did a feature on robot call girls, Rachael would be the center fold.

And then, out of nowhere, she called again, acting like she’d never gone at all. She offered no explanation as to where she’d been. I asked for none. I didn’t want to know. I just told myself she had been in the shop and let it go at that.

As an artist, David Rose, won both the Arkansas Governor’s Award and the Delta Award. His works are in the collections of Tim Robbins, Bruce Springsteen, & Susan Sarandon. As a writer he flunked every English class he ever sat in. Born in Woodstock, NY, he is very much a product of the 1960s and never really managed to escape that fabled decade. Visit Rose at www.amazon.com/David-Malcolm-Rose/e/B019GBJI9C/ and on Facebook.

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