Truth. Justice. Minesweeper.

Monday, September 27, 2004

"So I'll meet you at the office at about ten tomorrow," Cassie said, kissed me goodbye, and cleared out. I closed the door behind her.

"Well," Ron said. "Cassie, huh? She's pretty."

"Yeah, she is," I said, planking myself down on the couch.

"You like the women with the small tits, don't you?"

I looked at him. "Sorry," I said. "Is this the kind of conversation you and I have now? This is what we talk about? I must have missed something."

He held up his hands. "Just an opinion."

"Yeah, well. If I ever want your opinion, I'll go splash cold water on my face until I come to my senses."

"Very nice. So what's Cassie--a Time-Killer or a Puzzle Piece?"

"A what or a what?"

"Well, there are only two kinds of Dennis relationships, you know. There are the Time-Killers and the Puzzle Pieces."

"Do go on."

"I will. The Time-Killers are the women you like but not enough to have a real relationship with. You just sort of hang out with them for a while until they figure out that it isn't going anywhere, and they dump you, and you don't really care. This is what happened to you with Crystal. With that one chick who always wore the pink jacket. With Jeanine. Oh, and we can't forget Mona."


"On the other hand, your Puzzle Pieces are the ones you're really in love with. But your problem is you get too set in your ways and you try to fit whoever it is you're going out with into this strict little section of your life, and then you get pissed off at each other and break up. That's what you did with Annie and Suze and that girl you were going out with in high school before I knew you."

"I'm glad you've given my love life so much thought. I appreciate it. I do." The annoying thing was that I couldn't really criticize him on the same grounds. Ron's history with women is essentially a long list of casual encounters lasting no more than a week and ending amicably. At least, that's what it was before he started up with Linnet, who I still haven't met.

"You used to have three kinds, but you don't do the third kind any more. The third kind is the Bridge Out. Shall I elaborate?"

"Why not?"

"The Bridge Out is the relationship with obvious serious problems that for some reason you and the girl don't notice. Maybe she's a psycho, maybe you've got a crush on her sister, whatever. Anyway, the two of you get along fine for a while until you say something stupid--and you always did--at which point the relationship breaks down along its natural fault lines. But you haven't done this one since Yvonne in sophomore year."

I didn't say anything.

"What, what's wrong?" Ron asked.

"Why do my friends always have to tell me all this depressing crap about myself?" I said. "Well, Cassie isn't a Time-Killer, I know that."

Ron laughed. "Don't worry," he said. "I'm just pulling your dick. You've had other kinds of relationships. Look at Erin."

I had thought of Erin. She was a Time-Killer if ever there was one. Damn it.
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