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Oppositional Forces

barbie
"Okay, you know what I think? I think that you are ass crazy in love with me, and totally devoted, and bat shit, but sometimes you really don't like me all that much."

"Really?"

"Like, when we disagree, which is often, but like... wait, well we disagree, and usually we argue about it, and we can agree to disagree or whatever, but like you understand where I'm coming from. Wait, bad example. So we're like polar opposites and we don't have that much in common, well we do, and they're pretty big things, but like the small things... or something. Okay, so we have a lot in common and we enjoy some of the same things, but there are things that I intensely enjoy and you only moderately enjoy because I feel so deeply for them. And I do the same with you I just, umm...

So basically we're fucking perfect for each other."

"Yeah."

"Well shit then. Then why do we argue all the time? It's because you are a girl and that instantly makes you crazy, and I was born crazy, right? Don't answer, but right? Because you were born in Nebraska, and I was born in Crazy, and it's basically the same thing."

"Umm, okay. Go Huskers!"

"Oh I hate that shit."

"I know."

"Then why do you do it? Why do you do that shit when you know I hate that shit?"

"Because why do you hate it?"

"What? Like a fucking test?"

"Like a realization, like maybe things aren't as tragic as you think. Like, maybe Nebraska really is the good life."

"Shit?"

"Humor doesn't always have to be a defense mechanism."

***

"I wish you had a dick. I wish you were a boy, I could stand arguing with you if you were a boy. Then it would be funny."

"Honey you wouldn't give me the time of day if I were a boy. You tend to date below your status."

***

"Oh my God! That was like, 3 insults in one! I love you!"

"I know."

Gaiety Diversions

barbie
Sometimes I get stories that have little to do with the story at hand, but much to do with the characters. These are little diversions until the main plot comes more together.




"Maybe I should write about the women I've slept with. That would be funny, right?" Chantal and I were at my apartment some lazy Saturday afternoon. I had an assignment to complete, but due to all the work I was putting into my novel, I had absolutely nothing of recent relevance to write about. Chantal offered to come over and inspire me, but instead ended up in a lounge chair flipping through the latest style issue of Esquire. It was 450 pages of nothing but men's fashion, and our favorite place to be at times.

"No, don't do that." She said as she leafed through the ads. In this issue they were more important than the actual articles. Through her wrinkled brow I could see her dressing her future boyfriend or husband, or possibly me.

"Why not?" I looked up from my laptop and watched her ignore me from across the room. Some Gaultier design had caught her eye and she was staring off into space imagining what setting the outfit would work in,

"Because it would make me jealous. Would you ever go to a Beautillion?" I ignored the question because she wouldn't hear the answer anyhow, and besides, I had my own questions I to ask,

"Why would it make you jealous? You don't want to have sex with me do you?" Chantal was in love with me, that was obvious, but it was a very specific kind of love. She never wanted to marry me, or fuck me that I knew of, but I understood that if given the option she would choose to take up permanent residence in my eyes.

"Heath, I want to have sex. In general, but I love you, and if sex were an option I guess you wouldn't be completely out of the question, but that doesn't matter because you're a homosexual." She smiled slyly and glanced at me over the top of the magazine. Cillian Murphy was on the cover.

"Right?"

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