Sock it to me
Friday, March 28th, 2008Do we know each other well? No? Perfect. I need you to pick a fight with me. Insult my footwear, scoff at me for not wearing earrings — make it minor, but make it quick. I’ve got to get this out of my system.
I have high hopes that we’ll be able to continue our lack of a relationship after this. You’ll fire a zinger that will miss the mark by a mile, I’ll call you a llama-faced doofus, and we’ll go on. It’ll all be okay, because you don’t know me, and I don’t know you.
Which means that you don’t know what buttons to push to get me really and truly boiling, and I don’t know the topics to spark your temper. We’ll keep it light, work out a little aggression, and move on. So what if I don’t like your socks, right?
What I’m trying to say with this, I think, is that if I loved John a little less, I would be less eager to kick him in the teeth right now. But since he’s been my sun and moon for the last ten-and-a-half years, I’ll settle for taking my boots off first.
Love you, babe. Really.