The other day, after wrestling for an afternoon with a thorny passage in something I’m writing, I finally came up with the perfect way to solve the difficulties it presented. Full of pride at my own cleverness, I told E.S. about it. Then we had the following conversation:
E.S.: That’s great, honey.
FAUSTUS: Aren’t I really smart? Aren’t I a terrific writer?
E.S.: You are a wonderful writer.
Pause.
FAUSTUS (dangerously): And?
E.S.: Oh. And you’re really smart.
FAUSTUS: That’s better.
Pause.
FAUSTUS: Don’t you love dating me?
E.S.: Um . . . yes?
This could be a conversation Marc and I would have. That’s probably why I’m smiling. That common bond of neurosis and boyfriend annoyance.
Love is grand… isn’t it? Don’t you think love is grand? and–?
i’ve been in here before and glad to be led here again.:)
Throw him a little treat every time he does something right. And smack him with a rolled-up newspaper every time he doesn’t.
Tried and tested technique, I swear.
Gawd! You are SO mean to him! *giggle*
I simply defer to my comment of May 25.
My Other usually ends those with, “You’re exhausting me,” which is way less fun than a well-timed pause.
It’s like you’ve been listening to F and I have a conversation! Spooky!
Your bond will endure so long as E.S has that tranquil oasis where he can unwind some… the Locked Ward.
You should start giving him a LOT of well deserved sex.
And E.S. if you are reading this, , pats you on the back! Good Show!
Keep trying. Someday, you’ll have him trained.
Oh, this message is for E.S., by the way.