Diary Entry Of A Guy Whose Wife Used To Date Elon Musk

By Duke Harten

It’s not like I lack confidence. I did more than OK for myself back in the day. Wild oats: totally sown.

And apart from my fairly prolific sexual history (sorry, but it’s true), I’m a professional success. I mean, yeah, there’s always going to be somebody more successful than you by whatever metric you choose to measure success. That’s not what this is about. I don’t care that he’s like, wicked rich and famous or whatever.

Because look: at twenty-five I was named my firm’s Rising Star of the Year (youngest ever!) and was given an almost unheard of 12% pay raise in Q2. Four years later rumors started circulating about making me partner. Look at me now: name on the door, corner office, billing upwards of twelve mil a year and wearing suits that could put your kid through three semesters of community college.

So I’m not sweating it, professionally.

And it’s not about whether he made her laugh more than I do. I mean, witness our dinner last Tuesday, when my quip about the guy two tables down made Cheryl spit wine all over the place. (I said he looked like Jesse Eisenberg with fetal alcohol syndrome, and believe me—it was dead on.)

So that’s proof I’m hilarious. Funnier, at least, than someone like him. I mean, “The Boring Company”? Really, dude? Oh, I get it! It’s a company that bores tunnels, and also boring means “not exciting.” You know what’s not exciting? Puns.

I guess it’s just frustrating that Cheryl is just so private about their time together? Like, I understand the value of privacy, but if I had dated, like, Oprah, I would tell Cheryl whose vagina was nicer. You know?

Which, I’m not sweating it. The guy builds fucking enormous rockets for a living. So you can imagine. I mean, consider the psychological landscape of a man who chooses to shoot big phallic objects into outer space when NASA pretty much has it covered already. He’s got to be compensating for something.

My point is, I know who’s got the bigger penis. I just wish Cheryl would admit it’s me instead of dodging the question all the time.