Two friends meet and discuss a relationship
Friend One: Well, I see you are again unattached
and back in the dating pool.
Friend Two: Yes. It is a recurring sad state I am
in. I thought that finally I had moved from the Mr. Right Now Zone to the Mr. Right
Zone. Instead, I feel I am stuck in the Twilight Zone.
Friend One: I thought this match was very
promising.
Friend Two: So did I, until last weekend. I can
tolerate a couple drifts into the faux pas lane, but this time, there were no
lane change signals, or gradual lateral drift, just a head on crash.
Friend One: Was it the name thing again?
Friend Two: In essence, yes. He knows I don’t like
my given name, so he keeps trying to find me a nickname.
Friend One: He’s not back to Fluffy is he? Just
because you have curly hair and are prone to contented purring post… well, you
know.
Friend Two: No, it has become more than that. I
think the systemic problem began to emerge when he kept singing, “Let me call
you Sweetheart, I forgot your name…”
Friend One: So the animal theme continues? You
probably shouldn’t have dated another zookeeper after that python incident,
despite your animal advocacy work.
Friend Two: Well, it was a rush to see my likeness on the Times Square Jumbotron for that
ad campaign. But the herpetarium should have sent more handlers. I’ve never
seen a jealous snake move so fast. One second it was resting gently on my shoulders,
and as soon as he got within three feet of me… Well, he survived but our relationship
didn’t. Oxygen therapy really does work effectively with judicious application.
Friend One: Mama Agency does take good care of its own. So let’s get back to Dr. Do-too-little-too-late.
Friend Two: So he was sleeping in and I slipped out of our hotel room for a
nibble from the cardboard eggs and wallpaper paste oatmeal free breakfast. Being
the kind and generous woman that I am, I brought him back a cream cheese laden bagel
and placed it beside him on the night stand. I must have awoken him because, as
I turned to walk away I heard:
Him:
‘You fetched me breakfast. Now I know what to call you. Fido. Come here,
Fido.’
Then he slapped
his leg and snapped his fingers. I suggested that he never again refer to me
and anything canine in the same conversation or he would see what Bitch really
means. I said I was serious.
Him: ‘Sirius was Orion’s dog and
companion, just like you are to me: loyal, obedient, adoring, and you keep me
warm at night.’
Friend One: So what did you next?
Friend Two: I said I was ready for the fantasy he
had talked about so much: Skritching. But not quite the way he probably imagined
it. I ‘fetched’ the leashes and muzzle from his play suitcase, trussed him to
the bed, and let’s just say that his tail won’t be wagging in quite the same
direction for a while.
Friend One: I hope his tetanus booster is up to
date.
Friend Two: I already filed an order of protection
against him. Judge Ta-Da is very sympathetic when granting certain motions. He
won’t be leaving the zoo grounds for a long time.
Friend One: So your last fond memory of him is…
Friend Two: Imagining the housekeeping staff finding
him with bagel and cream cheese earmuffs, and leashed to the bed in a compromising
position dressed as a pink flamingo. It may have taken them a while to figure
out the standing on one leg thing.
Friend One: It does give new meaning to Naked and Afraid.
