Going Out On A Flooded Limb

It started many moons ago, as most things do, with an exciting overseas journey. She had broken away from a stifling mother daughter relationship and an extraordinarily loving father daughter relationship. She was heading to the United States of America and was looking for adventure. She was leaving goodness and truth behind, just for the moment, and would be furious to be written about in such a way.
She met Tom in a bar. He was handsome and debonair and flirted outrageously with the ladies and she knew he was hers. She had a few women to beat off first, but Tom was as smitten as she was. She was slender and intelligent and beautiful and Australian. They married. They had children. They embraced goodness and truth together and all was well.
Tom still felt empty and dissatisfied. He had had women listening to his every word, of which he had many, and sitting at his feet as he expounded forth, all of his life. Suddenly there was only one and she would mention over dinner with friends that she had married a monologue. That it had been a 20 year monologue. He wrote poetry and shared it with young, beautiful girls. They were smitten and looked adoringly at him in public.

Tom believed with all his heart and soul that fulfillment could and would come through a woman. She had been under his nose for some years, but he realised that he had found the perfect woman.

To be continued with permission.