Rod Stewart's 13th Wife.

I failed gym my freshman year of high school. Ask me why one day, it involves a horrible gym teacher and combat boots. There is a lot of anger in the much longer version of this story. Anger and resentment that cross state lines and have me involved with ex-nun lesbian math teachers and smoking cigarettes on a golf course in Wisconsin. The Short of it is that because I failed gym class my freshman year of high school I found myself standing on a street in Chicago whence Rod Stewart haphazardly sauntered past me. I had never listened to Rod Stewart any more than a song here or there on the radio... but when his presence crossed paths with mine I decided one day I must be a wife of his. I was 16 and only had a handful of years left before I was too old to accomplish this. Years went by, I graduated High School and I forgot about my dream of being a Mrs. Rod Stewart as quickly as a butterfly forgets that it was once a caterpillar crawling on the ground. Then (dramatic pause) in 2000 something... I've blocked out a few things and years are sometimes sketchy to me so for authenticity I won't pretend to remember exactly when this happened... my best friend and I were being jaunty American tourists in Glasgow, Scotland one day. Drinking ales and stouts. Eating bland starchy foods here and there. And it happened to be a day of some great soccer game. Some great soccer WIN. Every Scottish Soccer Hooligan for 100 Kilometers seemed to be parading drunkenly down the street. I could be wrong but I do believe that Monika and I were discussing the hotness of Scottish Soccer Hooligans when KABLAMMO she walked right into a petite and dapper dressed older gentleman helping an equally petite and lavishly dressed young lady into a car. She apologized to him, he apologized to her. Gracious smiles were exchanged between all parties as they often are when strangers are polite to one another, and we continued on our way. And then I realized it had been Rod Stewart. Again. For a little while, fueled by stout-y ales and lagers I mused on our luck and how it had now become destiny that I marry Rod Stewart one day. Monika, who never quite understood my feelings for Rod Stewart, having now touched him... been invaded by his presence too... was on the same page and we argued over who would win him first. She's a year younger than I am and therefore had the upper hand. I would wrinkle before her. She would remain in desirable youth a little longer than me. I forfeited. But I have never fully lost my passion. And then... ultimately... his daughter started showing up in my trashy bathroom magazines. Or rather... His trashy daughter started showing up in my bathroom magazines.