April 07, 2004

Start by talking about something mildly pleasant, like apple pie. She likes apple pie too, and soon you’ll start arguing about apple orchards and worker’s rights. You’ve turned into quite a Marxist since you’ve meet her. She remained a capitalist.

“Abolish private property,” you’ll scream!

And then the argument will get personal. At some point you’ll insult her intelligence or her sensitivity. She’ll call you a phony who only writes about things he nevers dare to do in real life.

You’ll call her bluff, reminding her that you do everything you write about. You did dance naked in Trevor’s kitchen and pierced your nipple. And once, you jumped naked into a freezing river. But you’ll acknowledge with a quiver that you never perused the girl you fell madly in love with.

She’ll say that you never listen to people, especially when they offer valuable criticism. We all suck, she’ll say, and we need someone to point that out.

You never cared for other people’s criticism. “People should worry more about their sucking instead of offering me advice,” you’ll tell her. You like the way you happen to suck at the moment, and you always encourage everyone to suck in their own wonderful way.

She’ll accuse you of ignoring everything she says and always dismissing her arguments with a wave of the hand.

“Bah,” you’ll say, waving your hand as you walk into the kitchen where she’ll throw the entire apple pie into your face.

That’s what you get for making her angry.