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. π
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.
π
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. π