Keeping Each Other Accountable

Douglas: “I’m heading home.”

Me: “Cool.”

Douglas: “And I really am going straight home.”

Me: “Dude, seriously, you do not have to reassure or convince me that you’re going to be where you say you’re going to be.”

Douglas: “I know. You’re right. I’m sorry.”

Me: “Because I’ve got a tracking device on your truck.”

[beat]

Douglas: “Please write this down.”

A Couple of Catches

Douglas: “So I went on a date yesterday…”

Me: “I hate him.”

Douglas: “How can you already hate him?”

Me: “Sorry. You know I want you to be happy. It’s just that he’s obviously trying to manipulate you.”

Douglas: “Oh.”

Me: “But speaking of, I met a guy last weekend…”

Douglas: “I hope he dies in a fire.”

Me: “Pardon?”

Douglas: “Sorry. You know I trust your judgement. It’s just that he’s obviously addicted to crystal meth.”

Me: “Hey, want to hear all the vicious insults I wrote to use on that one friend of yours who’s always harmlessly flirting with you? My goal is to make him cry in public.”

Douglas: “In a minute. I’m working on a list of everyone who might possibly have romantic interest in you and assigning them ranks based on how difficult it will be to hide their bodies.”

Me: “Huh.”

Douglas: “Yeah.”

Me: “I don’t understand why we’re both still single.”

Douglas: “Me neither, dude. Me neither.”

He Remembered That Tea Was Involved, Though, So That’s a Start

Douglas: “Hey, where are we meeting again? Is it that one place? Cobblestone Blackpot or whatever?”

Me: “Um… do you mean ?”

Douglas: “Yeah, that’s it! That place.”

To-Do List:

1. Write a series of murder mysteries set in England and featuring a bumbling but keenly intelligent detective named Cobblestone Blackpot.

2. Assemble a crack team of psychics and neurosurgeons, who will put their heads together and figure out once and for all exactly how Douglas’ brain actually works.

3. Drink more tea.

And Yet He Still Moved In, So Don’t Trust His Judgement

A conversation with Alan, shortly after he’d been introduced to a group of my friends.

Me: [Okay, I don’t remember exactly what I did to set him off, but whatever it was, it seemed perfectly logical at the time; like, I washed dishes with shower gel or something.]

Alan: “…”

Me: “What? They’re clean.”

Alan: ” You… are… a… MANCHILD. You and Dean and Douglas and Kirk and Ron and Sam. You’re all MANCHILDREN.”

I’m honestly a little afraid that he’ll find out how immature we all used to be. I feel like he wouldn’t be impressed with our collective emotional growth.