Someone decided to confide in me (ha! silly human) about the state of his relationship. He found out all may not be what he assumed.
Those of us in relationships longer than, let’s say, seventeen minutes, know what a fool this gentleman is.
As Chris Rock says, when you first start dating you’re not dating that person, you’re dating their representative.
But, this revelation disturbed this man. No, just so you don’t jump to conclusions, I didn’t scoff, laugh, deride, or any of the other things you’ve come to expect from me.
I just listened and nodded, I’m hoping, in a sympathetic manner. I say I hope because, as good as I am at maintaining a placid gaze when people are speaking at me, I’m not sure my internal head dialog of,
“Are you a fucking idiot? Have you met that psycho with pubes?”
Didn’t poke through once or two dozen times.
But I listened until he was wrung out like a newly bathed puppy after getting sprayed by a skunk before I said,
“Yeah, I used to think my girlfriends shit didn’t stink until I found out she was using a citrus spray to cover up.”
Why can’t people see the beauty in my relationship analogies?