Why Romance: The Reason in Dialogue
Wonder why I write romance?
So I can have fictional conversations like this:
“I made her unhappy because I don’t know how to separate myself from work.”
“Stop thinking like that.” Dev put two fingers to his temple then pointed them at Reid. “Why would she want you to choose?”
“She’s worth it.”
“I’m assuming she thinks the same about you.”
Reid covered his face with his hands. “This is why I never did relationships.”
“No it’s not.” Dev groaned. “You didn’t do relationships because you were shit-scared of women.”
“Not denying it. I’m not made for emotional turmoil and all the mess people make with, well, emotions.” Dev eye-rolled. “I failed with Zarley.”
“You also have the biggest goddamn ego. And you haven’t stopped to think this is about her, not you.”
“About her.” Thought stopped his brain; the world went still. “Still means I failed.
“You’ve got better at handling that lately.”
No single thing he’d ever fucked up would be as bad as losing Zarley. “She’s my personal ziggurat. If I lose her . . .”
“Are you going to tell me how to achieve this piece of impossible?”
“Nope. You’re the one does the pieces of impossible around here.”
“Not this kind of—shit, Dev. Are we at least okay again?”
“We will be if you keep her.”
He pushed back into his chair, but forgot it was broken. It didn’t ratchet back, just made him bounce forward again. “Our friendship is contingent on me keeping Zarley?”
“How is that reasonable?”
“It’s not. But neither are you. You were born without the reasonable gene. One day we might be able to steal you one on the reasonable gene black market, but until then having Zarley in your life makes you a more acceptable human being. I kind of like you again.”
Reid and Dev from Offensive Behavior
And not real ones like this:
Dude 1: That was a short workout.
Dude 2: Short and sweet, like my love life.
Dude 1: At least you have one. Since the wife left, a chick has clamped onto my dick so hard, she’s got total control. It’s too much work, can’t be arsed.
Dude 2: Got a girl, actually. Been seeing her three months.
Dude 1: Three months—first I heard of it.
Dude 2 To be honest, mate, she’s an absolute fucking no one. Gorgeous, hot as shit, arse like you wouldn’t believe, fucks like an angel. She manages a well-known night spot. Perfect girl. Texts me maybe once a week and says, I’ve got a night off, you up for anything? And if I say no, she’s cool as. But she’s a fucking no one.
Dude 1: Oh man, that’s what I want. She got a sister?
Dude 2: Yeah, but she’s just a waitress.
Dude 1: Oh, forget about it. Bound to need cash and cling.
Two blokes at the gym who think chicks who don’t have an arse like you wouldn’t believe, are largely invisible, amongst other things.