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Him: Hey I’m back but I’m really sleepy.


Me: Then take a nap at my place, drunky.


Him: Allright, I’m heading over, but just to sleep.


Me: No. Come to think of it, don’t.


Him: Haha. Okay. I’ll see you tomorrow then.


Me: Maybe.


Him: I’ll check on you tomorrow then?


Me: If you remember.


Him: I’ll remember.



Me: So will I. How’s the weather out there? Fair?


Him: Slightly chilly, but nice.


Me: Better to head home then. I have to txt a friend and ask about coming over to help.

Him: I hope you find a cool roomie.


Me: By the way, you shouldn’t stand someone up for a date and then sign on to Grindr. It’s poor etiquette. Dick move, I’d say.


Him: You just told me to go home.


Me: I need help. I’m not a flop house. You come over and sit. I cook. It’s not equitable. When it’s time to help you suddenly get tired.


Him: Fair assessment.


Me: Yes. Therefore I’m busy tomorrow. No date.



Him: That’s the rules we set from the start.


Me: Wrong. I was waiting for you to act like a team player.


Him: I’m the worst at that.


Me: Agree. You’re not dating material. Not even friend material. My friends do the dishes when I cook.


Him: You said it was fine to hang out, video games, and fool around, or cuddle. I agreed.


Me: I remember that. I’d like to renegotiate. I’m not satisfied with the arrangement anymore.


Him: I really don’t want to make you feel un-equitable.


Me: Okay, then. Let’s renegotiate?



Him: I feel like you may need more than I can give.


Me: Why? Cause I said let’s go on a date? That’s off the table. How about… do a dish once in awhile? How about don’t act like I’m a pariah if we’re in a gay bar? I don’t really need a boyfriend either; I just asked for a date.




I’m not happy with you wasting my Friday night with your lame excuse last minute. People  ask after my time, you know.




Me: The best negotiations leave everyone happy. Make an offer.


Him: You jump moods very quickly and it’s tough to get my feelings through.


Me: You don’t speak your feelings. That’s all on you. I think it’s pretty clear how I feel. I asked you to take me on a date. What are your feelings?


Him: Not a lot. I wanted to send this quote from Girls but it’s kind of selfish. Let me find it.


Me: No. Speak for yourself. This is negotiation. Say what you want. Don’t be lazy and plagiarize another writer’s work. I literally had to cry about my hurt feelings to get a date. That’s not the start of a deeper friendship. You’re standing me up tonight, the night before our official dinner date, and signing on to Grindr. You didn’t even apologize. How passive aggressive can you be?


Him: I want nothing.


Me: Then you don’t get anything.


Him: I wanted something at some point. Now I don’t.


Me: Life is about tone and timing. That’s understandable.




Me: We don’t seem to have a deal. I’m still fond of you. These small feelings will extinguish relatively easily. I’ll table my negotiation until after Mother’s day. Have fun alone.



Him: Many times that’s the best place to be.


Me: One thing I’m always saying is that the pair of eyes in the mirror belong to the best boyfriend in the world. It’s another way of reminding myself to go fuck myself. I suggest you do the same.


Him: I’m terrible at being on this side of anger.


Me: I’m not angry. Speak for yourself. It’s rude to speak for the other party negotiating. And, it doesn’t get anyone what they want. We were tender and sweet to each other. That’s a great thing. We needed creature comfort. I mistook that for us building a small relationship as friends. It’s my bad. Take care. I have to write this down.


Him: I still think of our relationship as small. Just much smaller now.


Me: Agree. You’re a fair weather friend. You show up when you’re horny, or lonely, or hungry and make me do most of the work. That’s not acceptable. That’s selfish and I won’t accept those terms. No deal.


Him: I’ll let you go. I’m sorry we didn’t read things the same way.


Me: Your cruelty is quite elegant, but don’t be sorry. I’m already adjusting my expectations. I really must go write something.


Him: Okay. Goodnight.

Me: One more thing: Neither of us are Girls, but one of us is in his 20s. Don’t let Lena Dunham speak for you. You speak for you. That’s good negotiation.





Him:  Come over.

Me:  No.  You come over here.

Him:  No.  You come over here.

Me:  Noooo…  I have writing to get done, and I should bake and photograph stuff…

Him:  Your stupid blog….

Me:  Yes.  And I have to re-write the show.  It got picked up for a run.

Him: Come over!

Me:  No.  Come over.

Him:  Come over.

Me:  How was your week?

Him:  Come over, it was fine.

Me:  I have to write.

Him:  You’re always writing!

Me:  Tell me about it.  Plus remember last time?  You kept shushing me, even though it was the middle of the day.  You were worried that your landlord was listening to us talk.

Him:  He is stalking me, I think.  I think he’s listening to me have sex and hang out with my friends.

Me:  I didn’t know that.  I only knew that you wanted me to whisper at 3pm.

Him:  Come over.  I won’t shush you.

Me: Of course you will.  It’s 1am.  Is your roommate home?

Him: Yes.  We’ll have to be quiet.

Me:  No.  No way.  I’m not coming over.  I live alone for a reason.  One of those reasons is, I don’t like to tiptoe around after 11:30pm.  Come here.

Him:  No….

Me:  Every time I come over there we make out for a while and then you send me home.  I tell you you’re pretty over and over again and you roll your eyes at me.  Then I go home with a boner.  I think you’re playing games.

Him:  I’m not playing games.

Me:  I know you are, but I like you anyway.


Him:  If you come over, we can talk about how good your show was.  Plus, I’m really in the mood for sex.

Me:  What’s your address again?

Him: Hahahahahahaha! 

Me:  Ugh.  I’m such an ego maniac.  Fine.  I’ll come over.

Him:  Don’t expect me to gush about your show if you do.

Me:  You just said…  okay fine….

(20 minutes later, at his place)

Me:  You still have crates of Honest Tea in your kitchen.  That’s the real reason I came over, you know, because I knew you had at least 75 bottles of Honest Tea lying around, and maybe you’d give me one.

Him:  SHHHHHH!!!  Do you want some Honest Tea?


#1) Do I want some Honest Tea?  No.  It’s waaaaay to late for me to have caffeine.  I’m like an old lady – can’t have it after 8pm.

#2) Do I want some Honesty?  No.  We live in a Society.  Things grind to a halt if we start being honest with one another.

Him:  I hope that joke’s not going into the show.

Me:  It wasn’t, but now I’m going to put it in, just to be willful.

Him: Nice.  Good luck making it work.

Me:  Thanks for all your support.

Him:  Will you come over some time and help me hang things?

Me:  Pictures and stuff?  Sure.  Although I kinda dig the minimalist vibe going on here.  Also, won’t you just shush me when I bang nails in the wall with the hammer?

Him:  SHHHH.  No.  I will take a break from shushing you.

Me:  Well, I suppose it would be wrong of me to deny you help.  I’m so tall and you’re such a cute shawtie.

Him:  Never mind.  I have Architect friends that will help me hang my pictures.

Me:  YOU’RE FRIENDS WITH ARCHITECTS????  Wow.  I should network more.

Him:  Great.  Everything’s a joke with you.

(we kiss for a while)

Me:  You’re super pretty.

Him:  You always say that.

Me:  It’s annoying?

Him:  It’s manipulative.

Me:  I know.

Him:  See?  You’re being manipulative.

Me:  Of course I am.  Everyone is.  At all times.

Him:  What a terrible view of the world.

Me:  Not at all.  An infant can manipulate its mother, and the mother can manipulate the infant.  Every relationship is a negotiation.  If you behave this way and say these things, I behave this way and say these things – and so forth.

Him:  It just sounds terrible, manipulation.

Me:  It has a terrible connotation, the word.  But what’s wrong with manipulating someone to feel good about themselves, especially if it’s true.  Especially if they really are pretty as hell?

Him:  Nothing, but I don’t manipulate people.

Me:  Yes you do.  You manipulated me into coming over by promising sex and an ego stroke about my show.  BTW, I haven’t gotten either yet.  You look super sexy in those shorts.

Him:  You’re doing it again.  I don’t want to feel like you’re part of a movement.  I don’t want to be part of a movement.

Me:  Well then don’t hang out with a bunch of other Asians who feel like sitting down in front of a tank.

Him:  Oh wow.  The jokes never stop.

Me:  They never do.  They never ever do.

Him:  I just don’t want to be part of a movement where we all sit around and compliment each other all the time.

Me:  Yes.  It sounds awful. Look.  It’s not damn movement.  I just think you’re attractive and I say so.  I give compliments, when I think a show is good, or a comic is funny, or a guy i kiss is pretty…  Can we just kiss?  I want to kiss you.

(we kiss for a while longer)

This isn’t going to escalate to sex, is it?

Him:  I don’t really feel like it tonight. 

Me:  You’re the one being manipulative, I think.  Who booty calls someone and then no booty?

Him:  Don’t say that!  My friends always say that about me and it drives me nuts. 

Me:  Your ARCHITECT friends?  They’re probably right.  But you’re still likable.

Him:  Stay over.

Me:  Writing.  I have to do my writing.

Him:  Okay.  I’ll walk you out.

Me:  Can I have some Honest Tea for the road?

Him:  Sure, do you want one? 

Me:  No.  I just think it’s funny you have crates of it in your kitchen.

Him:  Thanks for kissing me.

Me:  Thanks.  You’re sweet, and kind, and I’m lying.  I barely like you, but there’s something about you I can’t get away from.


Me:  Will you say it?

Him:  Me?  Sure, I guess.  Right now?

Me:  Yeah.  This has been going on for a while now.  Just try to fit it into the narrative.

Him:  How’s this? 


Thanks for coming over.


Me:  That works.