Will has an imaginary therapist that he seeks consultative guidance from. Nothing unusual about this except for having an imaginary therapist when you're a sexagenarian and not an adolescent (and that she's a life coach, not a shrink). Anyhow, today Will guided the session towards one of the many unresolved pig-pies, guilt/shame. Will brags about having no guilt and by God, don't waste time trying to shame him - he's shameless (and bulletproof and can do push-ups with his penis). Got the picture? So Will's reasoning today is based on Pride, that's right - Pride. The schadenfreude that comes over him when hearing about a guy getting caught yodeling in the cesspool of love or dipping his pen in company inkwell creates this Pride that he'll never have to worry about that again because he found the mate he sought for so many years (The half full part of the glass story). The half empty part, you know, the former life version of tales of the nefarious miscreant starring none other than Will himself, the part where the life coach hones in as a possible aspect of Will's PTSD-like recurring dreams and estrangement and reclusivity, well, that part Will uses mumbles and weasel words to pole vault over and would rather discuss Pride. Life coach knows these tricks and won't let Will off the hook but Will, a master of therapist blocking extemporaneously espouses the cure of devotion, ergo we kick the trash bag full of Depends further down the dirt path for another time.