Someone who loves Hart Crane, but who isn’t all, Baby, I’m so depressed, I’m gonna do a swan dive off that there freight ship boiling over the Atlantic.
A man who plants tulips and whips up an Osso Buco would be swell, long as he wasn’t also striding around the house in topsiders and croakies, pausing to check the laptop for stock activity. Make the crepe, but try not to shift uncomfortably when I say I haven’t paid off my student loans yet.
And I hate being tricked most of all. Hypothetically: you could get the most lyrical guy in the world and then in the middle of that hypothetical makeout session, you might hypothetically murmur (worried he’s not into it), Is this right? to yourself and hypothetically he might go, Nah dude, it’s cool. Nah dude, it’s cool??? No. Nonono. Dude, it is most certainly not cool.
Let me put it this way. What if you were nearly thirty and padded to the kitchen of a house at 3 am only to trip over a pile of videogames? Tripped because you were busy wondering if that could possibly be a Scarface poster scotch-taped to the wall. Well, if this did happen to you, I can tell you exactly what would be next. You would get in your car and drive home at 500 mph and look at stock activity.
It’s gotten to the point now, where there are two equally likely outcomes to a guy staying over: He could either go running out right after with his shoes in his hands, or he could still be there for lunch the next day. Somewhere between there is what we’re missing.
We’re either with guys who are worried about the cleanliness of the floorboards in their BMWs or who are giving their friends mullets at midnight.
Listen. We don’t need you to call on your way home. But be together enough to call sooner than three whole weeks later wondering what’s up, but not asking us to do anything. You’d think that because Mamie and I are asked out on average fifty times a week (what?), our odds would be better, but fergodsakes. Wait that long and we just think you’re assholes. And if we do forgive you and you do suggest we go out again, then you should know it’s not because we want to watch you watch tow-in surfing at a burger joint for a few hours.
Finally: I’m turning twenty-nine. Don’t rush me.
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5 comments:
harry: you're one of those women who likes to be held all night long, aren't you?
sally blinks.
harry: see, somewhere between thirty seconds and all night long is your problem.
you're right, you're right. i know you're right.
Omg! I thought you two were lesbians this whole time!
Oh and dance like nobody's watching; love like you've never been hurt. Sing like nobody's listening; live like it's heaven on earth.
Kisses.
eric, i love you. i love you even when you're a total ass.
hannah, i read this to my mother. you had her at the hart crane bit. you had her at the ship. she was in the car, somewhere between lexington, kentucky and chicago, doubled over and repeating it to dad. our dad. they offically signed the papers.
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