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With Michael #2
My Life with Michael: A Novel of Sex, Beer, and Middle Age
My Life with Michael is a romantic fantasy for anyone who has ever wanted to have their beer and drink it, too. Surprisingly sweet, the story follows the course of an adulterous affair between two ordinary people confronting the changes that aging brings to the experience of love and sexuality. With humor and honesty, my novel explores the pleasures and pitfalls of the adulterous relationship: the crudity of the courtship, the raw sexuality that ultimately lapses into monotony, and, inevitably, the bittersweet farewell.
198 pages, Paperback
First published February 8, 2015
50 people are currently reading
529 people want to read
About the author
Lori Schafer
65 books136 followersWhen I was in the seventh grade, my English teacher assigned us a creative writing project for Halloween. We were to compose short stories, which we would then read aloud before the class, coupled with a competition of sorts in which the students would vote on who had written the best one.
Now in my pre-teen years, I was not what you would term the most popular kid in school. Perhaps it was those horrible "Student-of-the-Month" photos of me hanging in the main hallway, which they somehow always managed to take right after gym when my hair was flying every which way, or perhaps it was the oxford shirts and corduroy trousers in which my mother dressed me because I refused to participate in ridiculous wastes of time like school-clothes shopping. It certainly didn't help that in addition to being smart and studious, I was also very, very shy, which led many to believe that I was stuck-up. I suppose if you're naturally adept at making conversation, it's difficult to understand that other kids might not be.
You can therefore easily picture the scene in the classroom that day: the anxious adolescent girl slouched in her seat, sweat drenching the armpits of her button-up shirt as she watched the clock, fervently hoping that time would run out before her turn came. You can imagine my nervousness when, five minutes before the bell, my teacher called me to the front of the class, the last reader to go; my terror as I stumbled up to her desk clutching the half-sheets of paper on which I'd scrawled my assignment. As usual, I had pushed the limits on the suggested length - my story was at least twice as long as anyone else's - and the only saving grace of this enforced public humiliation, I thought, was that I would undoubtedly run out of time to finish it before the lunch bell rang.
Tucking my loose hair back behind my ears and focusing my eyes firmly on my papers, I began to read. It turned out that reading wasn't so bad; unlike giving an oral report, you didn't actually have to look at any of the other students. And it was a decent story, I reflected as I flipped through the pages, concentrating hard on not losing my place. At least my classmates were sitting silently, which made them easier to ignore.
At last I reached the climax of my tale, which was where it turned gruesome. The main character had gotten trapped in a fire, and I remember describing, in disgusting detail, the sizzle of the hairs frying on his arms as the hot flames neared. I remember describing the flames devouring his flesh, great flaps of it falling from his skeleton as his skin seared away. And I remember the silence of the classroom; I remember it breaking, the moans and groans that swelled all around me as I depicted my main character's excruciating demise, only to be interrupted by the harsh clanging of the bell.
No one stirred; no one rose; no one left. I glanced at my teacher, who nodded. The other students sat rapt while I finished my story, and they applauded when I was done. There was no question that I had won the contest.
I was pleased that my story had gone over well, of course, but it wasn't until the following week, when other kids were still coming up to talk to me about it, that I understood that I had somehow made an impression that went beyond my gruesome, graphic horror story. It was as if I had revealed that somewhere beneath that classic nerdy exterior was a real honest-to-goodness person, a kid who thought about things like destruction and death, and flames eating flesh, and how best to describe such horrific events.
I never wrote horror again - I suppose it just wasn't my thing - and I've never made much of Halloween, either. I've never liked the pressure of having to pick out a costume and then explain why I chose it; I've never even understood the appeal of dressing up and playing pretend. I have other ways of exploring my darker sides. Nowadays you won't find me in a starched, striped shirt, or in old-fashioned slacks, b
Now in my pre-teen years, I was not what you would term the most popular kid in school. Perhaps it was those horrible "Student-of-the-Month" photos of me hanging in the main hallway, which they somehow always managed to take right after gym when my hair was flying every which way, or perhaps it was the oxford shirts and corduroy trousers in which my mother dressed me because I refused to participate in ridiculous wastes of time like school-clothes shopping. It certainly didn't help that in addition to being smart and studious, I was also very, very shy, which led many to believe that I was stuck-up. I suppose if you're naturally adept at making conversation, it's difficult to understand that other kids might not be.
You can therefore easily picture the scene in the classroom that day: the anxious adolescent girl slouched in her seat, sweat drenching the armpits of her button-up shirt as she watched the clock, fervently hoping that time would run out before her turn came. You can imagine my nervousness when, five minutes before the bell, my teacher called me to the front of the class, the last reader to go; my terror as I stumbled up to her desk clutching the half-sheets of paper on which I'd scrawled my assignment. As usual, I had pushed the limits on the suggested length - my story was at least twice as long as anyone else's - and the only saving grace of this enforced public humiliation, I thought, was that I would undoubtedly run out of time to finish it before the lunch bell rang.
Tucking my loose hair back behind my ears and focusing my eyes firmly on my papers, I began to read. It turned out that reading wasn't so bad; unlike giving an oral report, you didn't actually have to look at any of the other students. And it was a decent story, I reflected as I flipped through the pages, concentrating hard on not losing my place. At least my classmates were sitting silently, which made them easier to ignore.
At last I reached the climax of my tale, which was where it turned gruesome. The main character had gotten trapped in a fire, and I remember describing, in disgusting detail, the sizzle of the hairs frying on his arms as the hot flames neared. I remember describing the flames devouring his flesh, great flaps of it falling from his skeleton as his skin seared away. And I remember the silence of the classroom; I remember it breaking, the moans and groans that swelled all around me as I depicted my main character's excruciating demise, only to be interrupted by the harsh clanging of the bell.
No one stirred; no one rose; no one left. I glanced at my teacher, who nodded. The other students sat rapt while I finished my story, and they applauded when I was done. There was no question that I had won the contest.
I was pleased that my story had gone over well, of course, but it wasn't until the following week, when other kids were still coming up to talk to me about it, that I understood that I had somehow made an impression that went beyond my gruesome, graphic horror story. It was as if I had revealed that somewhere beneath that classic nerdy exterior was a real honest-to-goodness person, a kid who thought about things like destruction and death, and flames eating flesh, and how best to describe such horrific events.
I never wrote horror again - I suppose it just wasn't my thing - and I've never made much of Halloween, either. I've never liked the pressure of having to pick out a costume and then explain why I chose it; I've never even understood the appeal of dressing up and playing pretend. I have other ways of exploring my darker sides. Nowadays you won't find me in a starched, striped shirt, or in old-fashioned slacks, b
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Displaying 1 - 5 of 5 reviews
June 4, 2017
This was an interesting book to me for several reasons, I could identify with Kate, I went through "empty-nest syndrome". "loss of an elderly parent" & "menopause" all at the same time, & was thinking to myself, "what's happening to me" Because, my everyday life was totally boring & I was struggling through it. I dreaded getting "old" & thought, well that's it for me, didn't see myself being attractive or wanted by someone anymore, went through a terrible divorce, the loss has been epic for me. But, I was glad to see the author, Lori, allow "Kate" to go through her uncertain change in life, explore & find out she was needed & loved, without the usual punishment, that women receive when looking outside their relationships or marriage. There's almost always a real reason why people stray, more so then just sex. This novel addressed that & handled it tastefully. I believe, Michael & Kate forged a lifetime bond, that will last forever, they learned valuable life lessons from each other, it wasn't just an "affair".
May 28, 2015
This is a surprisingly powerful, honest, and insightful story of an extended affair between two people who are already in long term, committed relationships. It shows both the good and ill effects on the participants and their partners.
SPOILER ALERT
The three principal characters are extremely well drawn. The narrator, Tax accountant – Kathy, has an outspoken and direct attitude about her need for sex, which is clearly a real turn on for the men around her. But she’s also very concerned about the approach of middle age and all that it brings. Also, she can’t stop thinking about Michael, the new guy she’s met and how cute he is, but she isn’t willing to give up what she knows will be a wonderful, long term relationship… with Tom.
Michael is witty, clever, attractive, and interesting. He’s very devoted to his wife and three kids. The wife however has basically shut down all sex in their relationship. So Michael seems to have a very legitimate reason to start looking around. Michael and Kathy have fun together, share adventures together, rent apartments together, and meet at least weekly for over four years.
Don’t think this doesn’t go unnoticed by Tom, Kathy’s main man, who figures out pretty early on what’s happening and decides to suffer in silence. Tom knows that what he wants most is to be with Kathy when all the dust settles and that being with her is even be more important than Kathy’s short term infidelity. Neither Tom nor Kathy want to be married, though there’s not doubt that they are looking for all the commitments of marriage without the paperwork or the religious imprimatur. Tom’s patience and understanding nature, not to mention his good looks and sexual appetite wins out in the end.
There’s a lot of humor in this book, also a whole lot about beer – (a metaphor for brewing up an interesting life, I guess). There are reflections on marriage, relationships, parenting, and the universe. And in the end for the insights into relationships, the character studies, the humor, and the sex… My Life With Michael is a very worthwhile and important read.
SPOILER ALERT
The three principal characters are extremely well drawn. The narrator, Tax accountant – Kathy, has an outspoken and direct attitude about her need for sex, which is clearly a real turn on for the men around her. But she’s also very concerned about the approach of middle age and all that it brings. Also, she can’t stop thinking about Michael, the new guy she’s met and how cute he is, but she isn’t willing to give up what she knows will be a wonderful, long term relationship… with Tom.
Michael is witty, clever, attractive, and interesting. He’s very devoted to his wife and three kids. The wife however has basically shut down all sex in their relationship. So Michael seems to have a very legitimate reason to start looking around. Michael and Kathy have fun together, share adventures together, rent apartments together, and meet at least weekly for over four years.
Don’t think this doesn’t go unnoticed by Tom, Kathy’s main man, who figures out pretty early on what’s happening and decides to suffer in silence. Tom knows that what he wants most is to be with Kathy when all the dust settles and that being with her is even be more important than Kathy’s short term infidelity. Neither Tom nor Kathy want to be married, though there’s not doubt that they are looking for all the commitments of marriage without the paperwork or the religious imprimatur. Tom’s patience and understanding nature, not to mention his good looks and sexual appetite wins out in the end.
There’s a lot of humor in this book, also a whole lot about beer – (a metaphor for brewing up an interesting life, I guess). There are reflections on marriage, relationships, parenting, and the universe. And in the end for the insights into relationships, the character studies, the humor, and the sex… My Life With Michael is a very worthwhile and important read.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
May 29, 2015
An honest story of sex and relationships
This read is so brutally honest and forthcoming about approaching middle age, lifelong commitments and sexual relationships.
For me it was slow to develop however, by the end I was in tears.
A delightful and insightful read. I will be reading more from Lori Schafer in the near future.
This book was gifted to me in exchange for an honest review.
This read is so brutally honest and forthcoming about approaching middle age, lifelong commitments and sexual relationships.
For me it was slow to develop however, by the end I was in tears.
A delightful and insightful read. I will be reading more from Lori Schafer in the near future.
This book was gifted to me in exchange for an honest review.
August 22, 2015
I could not get a grasp on this book. It is about unfaithfulness, drinking beer and having sex.
July 31, 2015
This just wasn't a book for me. I couldn't get absorbed into it and I lost interest.
Displaying 1 - 5 of 5 reviews