Bloke's Column: Garrit Fishbaum

The door opens and I put down my keys and the door shuts and I turn on the light (the dim, smooth one) and my hand reaches out to grab her by the hand (or the waist, or the butt, or whichever part offers itself up) but then— she’s not there.

Where?

She’s in the other room. Ah. She’s taking off her shoes in that sexy way girls do. Ooh. She’s sitting down. Oh. She’s clicking on the television.

I blink. I compose myself.

Stroll in, sit down, casually. Devoid of agenda! Just going to lounge here and watch the teevee, watch this cartoon [click] this Japanese gameshow about teenage investment bankers [click] this report on yachts [click] this petting zoo reality show [click] this rapid strobing noise assault [click] this combative cooking contest… here, maybe I should have that remote, oh what does this button do – oh will you look at that, no sound, what does that say – 'MUTE'? – huh hey wow what do you know isn’t this SO MUCH BETTER and can’t you feel your brain breathing now and hey look at what’s happening in my pants!

She grabs the remote back and gives me a dirty look. 

“Honey, babe. We just had a really nice night out. Didn’t you?”

She nods her head, her big brown eyes twinkling in the arid glow. A little cartoon boy is beating an old man in the crotch with a glittering baseball bat.

“Well, does it have to be over?”

“It’s not over,” she rolls her eyes. “My New BFF starts in ten minutes.”

Sigh! “I thought maybe we could talk. Or make out. Or just hold hands and listen to each other breathe.”

“Since when did you turn romantic? Can’t you just chill out with me? It’s been a long day and this is how I unwind.”

“More like un-mind,” I mutter, to which she snorts with walloping derision and whatever was still happening in my pants deflates entirely.

“I don’t get it. You’re a librarian. A sexy librarian. A total nerd. Can’t we go talk about nomenclature? Read comic books? I mean heaven forbid we get mad rutty* three or four times before falling asleep of outright exhaustion. But really, I’d settle anything but teevee.”

“You know, you usually just sit there and check your email and read your web sites. But you’re still looking at a screen.”

“I watched half a season of Project Runway, and I even kind of liked it! Like Tim Gunn says, I can make this work. But, babe, we gotta draw lines. I want to hang out with you, and I have none - zip zero - interest in hanging out with girls who want to win a contest to be Paris Hilton’s best friend. Can’t we entertain ourselves? It’s the oldest entertainment there is! We can speak into cameras if you want, that’s fine, we can even tape it and watch it on a screen – as long as it’s ours. I just want this time to be ours.”

She smiles with sympathy and pats me on the back of the head head. Suddenly her face falls. “Ohhh, we just missed Police Academy 4.”

Sigh.
Can we at least watch porn?

*Amerispeak for 'the horizontal cha-cha'