A long time ago, while my Aussie friend Hugh and I simultaneously dated similar-looking girls named Ali, Hugh mentioned to me his concerns that his friend Patrick was interested in Ali. Never one to make any situation easier, I gave him what became to be known as The Picture: a mental image of Pat and Ali standing naked together, Pat doing naughty things from behind as Ali merely looked at the mental camera and gave a knowing, insidious smile. He was, understandably, somewhat scarred.
A year later, Hugh still calls me a bastard any time I mention The Picture, even though he and Ali have long since broken up and he is "over her like a bridge." I responded by telling him that he was indeed over Ali "Like a bridge," but one on his commuting route that he goes over "10 times a week." Even he had to admit it was funny and true. It was after this, of course, that things got cruel. Tonight, he told me that he wouldn't be that surprised if Pat and Ali got together, despite her repeated involvement with a girl named Steph (one time in his bed!) In fact, he would be concerned for Patrick. What follows is the MSN conversation that resulted:
Hugh: Ya'know, I actually wouldn't be suprised if her and pat got together. And I would care, but more for his sake really.
Me: So how traumatized does The Picture still get you? Because I could tweak or elaborate it, if need be. I mean, just imagine his arms slipping down her arms slightly, his face squinting slightly while he gives a thrust, but that smile never leaving her face. Maybe she closes her eyes a little, or maybe she just winks.
Hugh: However, that is far more traumatic and I hate you.
Me: Bwa ha ha ha!
Hugh: You're a master of poetic darkness
Me: Hail to the king, baby!
I've still got it.