A pissed off friend

So my friend from the Halloween party wrote me this typically charming thank you email, in which he wrote that he couldn't remembering being surrounded by so many children: “It was a salutary reminder that there is life outside of academe, even if I don't actually have one myself.” I wrote back and suggested he give it a try himself; now he’s pissed at me, boy. “Hadn’t considered that one,” he writes back. Good golly. The way email invites the worst possible readings (although yes, I know, I was stupid to suggest it through email in the first place).

Anyhow, here’s my friend, a charming single man living in a decent-sized Southern city. Anytime he wants to go out, fine, he can. No kids to drag with him to any poetry reading he goes to. If he wants to be on the local Democratic party committee, nothing in the world stopping him. No rushing home from having coffee once every semester with a friend because it’s time to pick up the kids. And he can’t make friends. I’m working myself into getting pissed off too, and that’s not what this is about and I don’t have time for that today, so I’m going to stop now. God give me patience, cause I sure don’t have any myself.