Explain it to your husband.
“I’ll keep hanging around and we can still have sex and stuff, but it’ll be totally physical. I’ll have empathy for you if you’re in pain, but no more than I would for a character in a movie.”
Your husband will shrug and go back to his model WWII plane. Tell your kids.
“I’m basically going to have as much interest in watching you grow up as I would the Obama girls. Kind of just want to check in and see what kind of adults you’ll start to look like, but as far as feeling you pulse through my veins like you were my life’s blood, that’s all over.”
Your kids will wander off to process their feelings by smoking cigarettes in various areas of the woods behind your house. Tell your dogs.
“The unconditional thing you feel for me, it’s not reciprocated. You’ll get fed and walked, but my connection to you is no stronger than my affinity for the pillows decorating the sofa. How you taking this?”
Your dogs will turn on each other, each blaming the other for draining the love from you. They’ll lunge at each other’s throats, tearing them open to send blood gushing to the floor. Just one will remain, but he’ll run off into the streets, under the impression he is undeserving of shelter in your home if he can no longer inspire love in you.
Clean up the mess and take the dog carcasses out back where you should bury them quick before Sunday night TV starts up.
Happy You’re All Out Of Love Day!
