The Other Woman

On top of the chest of drawers next to Evi’s side of the bed, I noticed a book she’d checked out of the Cape Coral Public Library. I think it was delivered to our local branch from another one specifically for her, as it was wrapped with a receipt-like paper from a printer. On it, I read: “E. Simmons”.

I paused. It’s amazing how seeing something like that slaps you into reality. I’m really married. Like, really REALLY married. She even took my last name!

I get that being married isn’t unusual in America, but you have to understand how unfathomable this was to me not even four years ago. On July 10th, 2014, having already given most of my belongings away, I hopped in a Honda Accord with what little I still owned and headed to New York City, where I would live the life of a starving artist, performing standup comedy whenever I wasn’t working in a crappy retail job or sleeping on a couch in Brooklyn. Any idea of having a relationship with anyone was abandoned, not only because I needed the artistic freedom, but also–let’s face it–43-year-old men chasing crazy dreams that include the description ‘starving’ aren’t exactly great catches for single women. 

So, I was absolutely positive bachelorhood was my permanent status, and my life would be spent observing the human condition through that lens. Fast forward to 2018, and now not only has a wonderful woman taken my name, we also spawned a beautiful eight month-old daughter. 

I swear, sometimes, it just doesn’t seem real. How the hell did it happen? 

If you’ve followed me for a few years, you already know part of this story. But for those that haven’t, I’ll give you the quick and dirty, plus reveal a little secret I’ve never admitted before. 

I used to work for a retailer of Verizon Wireless in Florida, so the easiest way to make sure a job was waiting for me in NYC was to simply transfer up there, which I did. I gave myself an entire month between my last day of work in Florida and my first day in a store in the Big Apple in order to enjoy the trip, learn the city, and get in as much stage time as possible.

Once I started working, though, it dominated my life. The retailer was chronically understaffed, so I was chronically overscheduled. I had little time for comedy. In fact, at one open mic, while waiting for my spot, I fell asleep in the crowd. When I woke up, I nearly nodded off again. I told the comic I came with I had to go; I simply had no energy left, and had to work a double the next day.

Thus it was, on August 26th, 2014, when a tall, beautiful model walked into my store and bought a cell phone charger from me, leading to the commission of the very fireable offense of using the information she gave me to send her a Facebook friend request. A year and a half later, we were married.

Again, if you’ve known me for a few years, you know that story. What you probably don’t know is: Evgeniya wasn’t the only girl I met that day. Hell, she wasn’t the only girl I met that half hour. About 25 minutes before my future wife walked in the door, a young professional-looking woman named Abigail entered. She was petite, had light brown hair, and was very pretty. I don’t remember why she came in the store, but I know she didn’t buy anything, yet kept me at my desk for 20 minutes. She was an artist of some type, and an excellent conversationalist. I kind of wanted to ask her what her dating situation was, but I couldn’t decide if she was flirting or just friendly. I didn’t have the cojones. She eventually left.

Of course, Evi came in a short while later and blew me away. She seemingly didn’t flirt either. I tried being a little playful, but she didn’t respond in kind. However, I decided I couldn’t go 0 for 2 on the day, so I committed the employee violation.

But wait: Abigail came back the next day! She smiled a lot, played a little coy, and said she “just came in to say ‘hi’.” She was flirting! This confirmed for me she was flirting the day before! 

But Evi had already accepted my friend request, and even responded to the message I sent her with a little joke. What do I do? I suppose I could’ve ‘played the field’, but honestly, I was a little too old and lazy for that. And, I wasn’t planning on any New York relationships in the first place, remember? So I never contacted Abigail. The rest is history.

This is going to sound like bragging, but I swear it’s true: I got hit on by women frequently in New York. It surprised me. When I moved there, I imagined all the single women were looking for young hedge fund millionaires, and would spit on a middle-aged, couch-sleeping comedian/cell phone salesman. New York has more single women than men, so I guess I had the benefit of supply and demand. Single men should definitely consider moving to the city. The hunt for girls could be fun and fruitful.

Not for me, though. I just remembered that I’m already happily married. She has my last name and everything.