How you could be so certain.
"Listen, Larry" you say, trying your best to coat your singsong with a husky phleghm, "it just isnt going to work out with you and me."
"Work out?" He seems genuinely puzzled.
"Yes, you know, it isnt going to lead anywhere."
"Oh, you'd be surprised where this might lead."
"I bet I would. But it isn't. I mean, as a relationship, it has zero future."
"Future? Oh, I get it. You mean you don't forsee a pot of gold at the end of our juicy rainbow. You mean that our intimacy isn't likely to yeild a dividend. You disappoint me, Gwendolyn. I hoped you might have a watt or two more light in your bulb then those poor toads who look on romance as an investment, like waterfront property or mutual funds. Would you complain because a beautiful sunset doesn't have future or a shooting star a payoff? And why should romance 'lead anywhere'? Passion isn't a path through the woods. Passion is the woods. It's the deepest, wildest part of the forest; the grove where fairies still dance and obscene old vipers snooze in the boughs. Everybody but the most dried up and dysfunctional are drawn to the grove and enchanted by its mysteries, but they just can't wait to call the chainsaws and the bulldozers and replace it with a family-style restaraunt or a new S and L. That's the payoff, I guess. Safety. Security. Certainty. Yes, indeed. Well, remember this, pussy latte: we're not involved in a 'relationship,' you and I, we're involved in a collision. Collisions don't much lend themselves to secure futures, but the act of colliding is hard to beat. Correct me if I'm wrong."
More. Later. Taking. A. Moment. To. Breathe.
"Work out?" He seems genuinely puzzled.
"Yes, you know, it isnt going to lead anywhere."
"Oh, you'd be surprised where this might lead."
"I bet I would. But it isn't. I mean, as a relationship, it has zero future."
"Future? Oh, I get it. You mean you don't forsee a pot of gold at the end of our juicy rainbow. You mean that our intimacy isn't likely to yeild a dividend. You disappoint me, Gwendolyn. I hoped you might have a watt or two more light in your bulb then those poor toads who look on romance as an investment, like waterfront property or mutual funds. Would you complain because a beautiful sunset doesn't have future or a shooting star a payoff? And why should romance 'lead anywhere'? Passion isn't a path through the woods. Passion is the woods. It's the deepest, wildest part of the forest; the grove where fairies still dance and obscene old vipers snooze in the boughs. Everybody but the most dried up and dysfunctional are drawn to the grove and enchanted by its mysteries, but they just can't wait to call the chainsaws and the bulldozers and replace it with a family-style restaraunt or a new S and L. That's the payoff, I guess. Safety. Security. Certainty. Yes, indeed. Well, remember this, pussy latte: we're not involved in a 'relationship,' you and I, we're involved in a collision. Collisions don't much lend themselves to secure futures, but the act of colliding is hard to beat. Correct me if I'm wrong."
More. Later. Taking. A. Moment. To. Breathe.