People who know and love me say, ‘it’s not your fault, he just wasn’t the right guy.’ I hear it often, and am getting tired of hearing it as often as I hear the joke, ‘Kit’s man of the year.’ Which ain’t exactly accurate, because most of them don’t last that long. Like a serial killer, by the time I’m finished with a guy, there’s nothing left but an empty carcass that I’ve sucked the life force right out of. But no charges are brought because the empty shell is still walking and talking so it isn’t exactly a capital crime.
When I start out, my intentions are good. I don’t set out to chop them up into little pieces, really I don’t. But what can I say, I am woman.
And alitloff to boot.
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