Denny Crane. - FIFTY-EIGHT. Lost.

Talk about something you lost.

I don’t know when I lost her. She’s the one. I know that much. I love Shirley. Ignore the fact that I’ve been married plenty of times after her – in fact, I’ve never been married to her, and maybe that says something, maybe I marry the ones that aren’t the one. But, I’d marry her, in a heartbeat, if she’d let me – hell, I’d marry her if she wouldn’t let me, but that would be complicated.

But, now she’s hitting the sack with Sack – as in Carl Sack, as in the one who is supposed to stay in New York and leave Boston to me, Denny Crane! When did that happen? She’s been here, under my very watchful eye, and somewhere along the way she thinks she might have fallen in love – or, at least into the sack – with Sack. Alan saw it coming, but then, he’s a pansy, democratic pervert who sometimes reverts to speaking in tongues, which sort of turns Lorraine on. I caught them together – Shirley and Carl, I mean. Alan’s business is just that – Alan’s business, shared only with me, the balcony, and occasionally the elevator. But, Shirley, she says she’s happy. Whatever.

I remember when we were young, when she’d lay her head on my shoulder, and I’d sing to her. That’s when life was good. I don’t know when that changed, or even why. It did though. Somehow I lost her, and I can’t tell you when or why it happened. I can’t even sit on the balcony and wax nostalgic about the downfall of Denny and Shirley. It just happened, and I don’t know when I lost her.