August 12, 2005

Last night, E.S. and I watched Hooking Up, a new reality show in the Blind Date mold. The crew follows women as they go on dates with men they’ve met online. I do not care for the show, as I find the people tend either to humiliate themselves or to be skanky. Last night was no exception; a woman was out with a man she’d had a good first date with, but the second date was going nowhere fast. He was far too intense, getting far too close far too quickly. “I just feel a real connection with you,” he said, “and it’s clear to me you feel it too.” He was attractive but it was just awful to watch. She was obviously unnerved, and in the end she let him down easy. Then E.S. and I had the following conversation:

E.S.: I dated him. I mean, not him specifically, but somebody who did that.
FAUSTUS: And?
E.S.: He was like, it would be great to keep getting closer to you, to get to know you better and better. And I was like, it would be great to stab you with this kitchen knife.
FAUSTUS (excited): Wait. Did you think that at the time? Or is this just how you’re putting it now?
E.S.: I couldn’t express it that way then. All I felt in the moment was that it was weird and creepy.
FAUSTUS: Oh, my God, I’m rubbing off on you! I’m getting you to have violent thoughts and impulses!
E.S. (defensive): I have violent thoughts and impulses all the time.
FAUSTUS: Oh, yeah, like what?
E.S.: Like some of my patients who are really sick–I just want to put them out of their misery.
FAUSTUS: That doesn’t count.
E.S.: Not even if I do it by sawing their heads off?
FAUSTUS (with eyes narrowed): Are they anaesthetized?
E.S.: Of course not. What would be the point, if you couldn’t hear their screams grow muffled as the blood gurgled into their tracheas?
Pause.
FAUSTUS: Oh, honey. I’m so proud of you.