TRANSCRIBED:
A day I hope never repeats itself. This is the third time in a row. Tina is gone. We spent a few hours together, but it was good-bye. She’s not a you-know-what any more. It looked serious this time. I’ve had to let them go before, and this time is, actually, I think I’m getting used to it. It would have been five years this March. And I can’t do a thing about it.
It has always been my thinking that my personal lack of success is not something I can ask a woman, any woman, to share with me. My personality or “love” does not transcend the bitter realities of poverty. I guess I can tell you now, as with others, that I wanted Tina to marry me, and not anyone else.
I may, however, have an out this time. There is an unquestionable advantage I posses that wasn’t about before. I may be using something I’ve not yet learned to handle in such situations. But I do have money, and I may think of a way to use it to defeat the usual course of these matters.
[Author’s note: boy, talk about love-sick. Tina was almost 21 and time was running out. I swore I would never get married until I had enough money to have a chance of success, that’s the advantage I mention. Turns out one never does have that much money, but I’d had enough of poverty by the time I was ten to inflict it on somebody I loved. Of the three women in my life, all disappeared in the same way, that’s what “third” meant. They could not wait until I was ready.
Good, I’m not ready yet.]
