My Rocky Romance

Hi, I’m Raquel Rockwell. Looking at my platinum diamond ring and our wedding picture on the mantle makes me sedimental about my ex. Here’s where we shared the wine chalcedony look handsome in his tux? Mica Feldspar was quite a multi-faceted dude, but somewhat of an icono-clast. A craggy geologist, he worked for Cobalt Corporation, a rock-bound conglomerate in Marble Falls. He did asbestos he could to rise above being the loam-an on the totem pole. It’s sort of a cut-throat bismuth-ergrabbers jockeying for position. Those folks in high-tektite bunch they are, I must say. Combat tested his metal in Iraqu-aMarine. Mica resented being in the corundum-bly following orders. By no means proud of being a coral-um, he came back from his overseas tourmaline-ing all his drill sergeants and top brass.

I first met Mica in East Austin over on Co-malachite-flying contest. He came up to me and my friends and said, “Hello, there, may I but-tin? I really dig you!” Such a wolfeite-ing as much as I could against his suave charm, I played hard to get at first. I told him, “Galena-gainst some easy bimbo!” Later, I lead him on, tellurium with coy flirting.

Getting boulder, in a most magmanimous gesture, Mica said, “I’d love to avalanche with you, if you canyon-der at that table.” He offered me a Coke, but I preferred a sodalite. Then he splurged on a calomel sundae. He gave me some salt-water taaffeite-asted a piece or two. I schorl-iked his looks -- what a butte with his sandy blond hair. Such a handsome man I’d hardly xenon this hole Earth. Hematite bronzed physique from working out at the gem andesite for sore eyes. We passed the warm Austinite dancing at the Palladium under the soft staurolite.

I acted so silicon-tacting him – caliche and every day and talc for hours, cementing our relationship. I was positively obsidian. He said, “I want you for my gulch-ickee Baby!” It was fun being his cute carbon-ny in his vintage Mercury coupe with its metallic flake paint and shiny chrome, looking at the moonstone in love. We'd listen to rock songs on the radium like “Eye of the Tiger,” the Rolling Stones’ “Ruby Tuesday” and oldies like “Rock with You,” “16 Tons,” "We're Gonna Rock this Town,” “Diamond Girl,” “Climb Ev'ry Mountain,” “Stony End,” “Rocky’s Theme,” and our favorite, “Everybody must get stoned.” Then we sang duets, with my perfect pitchblend-ing our voices so harmoniously.

I’d be drawn to him like a magnetite in his arms. On the couch we’d be lollingite-ouch his body and feel sapphire-y. He’d hold me in his lapis lazuli petting me, his hand down my cleavage, stilbite-ing me on my shell-like ear such a long time, bituminous. He'd give me the cats-eye and say, “Lava, we lignite!” and kess-kess for a long time. That man rocked my world. He gave me a beautiful serpentine chain necklace and bracelet. Gully, alluvium! He was mine, all mine! He introduced me to his cirque-le of friends and one fine day, Mica got down on one neon proposed. I really liked his pebble, too, and they always made a big phosphorus. Even though we didn’t share the same creedite-ook that in stride. After the wedding at the churchite-ossed my bouquet to his sister Vivianite-old her she’d be next. We honeymooned in Telluride. My new groom quarried me over the threshold of the Sandstone Apartments in Jasper. It had such an attractive yttrium in the complex. Wow, we made that bed rock! What fun to strata-lim.

For dinner, I’d raid the larderellite the backyard barbecue and grill marbled steaks, make coal slaw with carats, mines-trona, roast turquoise, bake
su-pearl-ative pyrite, and porphyry's coffee. Wanting to cut down on sugar and caffeine, I drank chrysolite. A picky eater, Mica didn't have a very big apatite. I’d beg him to trilobite and eat some maar. I’d iron his cherts and mop up spills from the fluorite away. I liked staying home weaving rugs on aluminum-pteen other craft projects.

Treasuring his family jewels, I yearned to rear a peridot-ing kids. Sad to say, all too soon my ex started taking me for granite as though I were only semi-precious. I feared he’d leucite of what was good about us. Some nights, he'd clam up in stony silence. Sorry, I need to vent. He thought he was oil that. The vein drunk was a borax-ually, a rubble without a cause. He’d tectonic water and gin with lime every time he cinnabar. What an alkali-ar that he was, I could rarely expect the truth from him.

He was fond of saying that a rolling stone gathers no mossanite-ried to tell him it was better to get stable in one placer risk being viewed as flighty. I'd never metamorphic'le guy as Mica. He just wanted topaz the night shootin’ the bullion with a jaded bunch of agates—those geyser nothing but silver-haired old fossils from the Stone Age! I had no idea why he’d foo-litho-se characters. Emerald geezers—nuttin’ gneiss. They’d be such a boron so many dopey topics. When they were visiting, naturally, Mica didn’t want me to dis-terbium. Manganese fellas bother me! Especially that Sal Ammoniac. Halite in the loafers can you get? That whole gang enabled his addiction and kept saying, “Bro-mine, here’s Europium.” I’m amazed the police didn’t pull a radon that nasty group and cesium. I'm so glad they all finally argon out of my life.

Not only that, we had budget problems galore, as though Mica was antimony. If he had a dolo-mite spend it in a minute; he couldn’t keep a nickel. Geode everyone in town, with him believing that was merely a miner problem. Even after all this time, Iodine-r’s Club, MasterCard, Visa.

Oy-ster-ing up trouble, Mica called me an igneous slut, accused me of being a golddigging parisite and treated me like an ore. I was petrified of that spelunkhead with his giant chip on his shoulder and volcanic temper. I was quaking in fear that he’d shovel me around, tear off my slip-strike me, and leave his marcasite sorry to behold. I couldn’t alloy graveling at his feet. Did I have to get out the mesa-nd defend myself? The fools’ gold-ed me for being frigid as a glacier because my motherlode-d me down with all this sexual gilt.

One time my ex-husband practically basalted me, forcing me to satisfy his carnelian desires. He yelled, “Potassium on the bed!” Land o’ Goshenite and day, he was mountain me, peter hard, but a disappointing seismic-key Rooney, not Mickey Rourke. Not very mete-o-rite that does matter! What a si-clay. That pervert's hornblend-ed into my titanium. Scree-ch! You think that’s no big deal? What if it were uranium? Mica would be in like flint, gettin’ his rocks off, the eruption comin’ in quartz! It was his thrust fault. Worrying that his willemite not work again, he had to resort to Via-graphite-ing against his waning potency. Anyway, tungsten times better!

Garnet, something smelt rotten, realgar-bage! What crust, a spinel-ess creep to the core! Mother-of-pearl, I was in a depressing slump and schist had sulfured so much. What a fool I amethyst-uff! He had a chippie on the side so it’s his San Andreas fault! That tor it! I devised a plan of crystal clarity: to poison them with arsenic and barium in a krypton private property or even a
bauxite-ossed out that plan because I didn’t want to zinc that low. I was afraid of tailings by the coppers. Apache tears ran down my cheeks as I gave up all opal-eaving. I asked my marriage counselor Dr. Calvi-nitrogen to help. “Calcium, please.” But, Mica never kept his appointment. Abalone, we just didn't pan out. Down deep ingots, I knew that our marriage was on the rocks. Onyx, wipe the slate clean, steel myself, and toss him on the slag heap.

“Mica, you alabaster-d, your name is mud. You’re not gonna give me the shaft. Here’s a nugget of advice: Pack up and beryl on down the rhodium to the badlands. Grab a cabochon your little friend so shell drive you back to Rocky Top, Tennessee! Go ahead, esker. Same thing tuya, Mica. Go gypsum other woman like Anthracite. Shale soon realize you zircon-ned her!”

I’m so relieved that pumice is outta my life and iridium. Mineral alike! Now, meet my new partner, Amber Stone!