| There is a scene in a play, or maybe it is just a one-act, or maybe it is just a single scene sitting all by itself somewhere. In it, a man and a woman are having a conversation, and whenever one of them says something wrong or inappropriate or just something the other one plain does not like, they hit a little bell and the dialogue backs up a line, and they keep hitting the bell until the other person gets it right. There are times in my life when I really wish I had that bell. Let us say, for example, that the two people in the aforementioned scene were having this conversation: "He sure has been sending you a lot of messages." "Yeah." "Hey, next time you write him, tell him to stop flirtin' wit' my man. Ha ha!" "He's not flirting." "Of course he's flirting with you." "No, he's not flirting." "Yes, he is. He's totally flirting." "Well, fine. YOU can doubt his motivations all you like. Although...I suppose I kind of doubt his motivations too." "Right. Because he's flirting." (Now, after the next line would be when the bell begins ringing. Ringing in vain, I might add.) "Okay, fine. He's flirting with me. But sometimes it's really fun when someone flirts with you." (BING BING BING BING BING -- but you might notice, the conversation does NOT, in fact, back up, much to my...err, the imaginary protagonist's...chagrin.) "Oh, it is, is it?" "Relax. I mean, it's not like anything's going to COME of it. Because he's only nineteen." (BING BING BING BING BING -- the bell chimes, in a futile attempt to make the other person realize that, first, please do not tell the person you are dating that you enjoy flirting with strangers, and second, please do not attempt to reassure him that everything will be okay because the other flirter is only nineteen, rather than saying "Nothing would possibly ever come of it because I am far too much in love with you.") The curse of being a touchy, possessive, proud Leo. Bing. |
