that would make him smart, wouldn't it?"
"Doesn't count if it's smart to hide the fact that he's
stupid." That doesn't
make a lot of sense, it doesn't matter, she's off again, "Or he
could be retarded. That's
it. A hottie retard.
But it could happen." Now
she's firing the 1000 questions at me.
"Would you stay with him if he was a retard?
Would you stay with him if he was borderline retard?" I don't answer on the account of I'm actually a decent human
being that doesn't use the term "retard" but it doesn't
matter. "You know what
it is? It's a weird form of
control. By not talking,
he's controlling the relationship.
Letting you make all the decisions, yet deferring to him at every
turn. It's a passive-aggressive thing.
And you're letting him do it."
I look at her. Holy
shit. That might be it. Oh God. Life's
crushing realization at a Hamburger Hamlet across from the Chinese
Theater on Hollywood Boulevard, the one place I hate more than the
dentist. That sucks.
That really really really sucks.