Calvin gives it up in a way that no man ever should. He balks at self-preservation, chooses to flagellate himself with no hope or expectation of credit. He must get off on punishment. Buxom and bewitching, with Bettie Page bangs and red lipstick, Victoria looks capable of being a punisher. She pulls the corset strings, squeezing the breath out of him every day.
They’re sitting across from us at the Ukrainian diner around the corner from our apartment, engaging in the delicately nuanced power struggle that passes these days for social interaction.
“I told you I had an appointment uptown,” Calvin says, five minutes into a row about a missed dinner engagement.
“No, you didn’t,” Victoria says. “I obviously wouldn’t have made plans if I knew.”
“Whatever, it doesn’t matter. But the card was on the fridge. And I did tell you.”
“Cal—seriously—like I’m supposed to pay attention to a tiny card on the fridge. Like I could even find it with all our crap.”
“I didn’t put it there for you to notice it. I don’t go around deliberately turning our daily ministrations into a scavenger hunt. That’s why I said to you on Monday morning, ‘Oh, by the way, I’m seeing Dr. Malcolm on Thursday.’ Can we drop it and enjoy brunch with our friends, who don’t need to be hearing this?”
“Right, so I’m the one taking it too far, as usual. My apologies, dear friends,” Victoria says to us, sweeping a hand to her bosom.
They’re sitting across from us at the Ukrainian diner around the corner from our apartment, engaging in the delicately nuanced power struggle that passes these days for social interaction.
“I told you I had an appointment uptown,” Calvin says, five minutes into a row about a missed dinner engagement.
“No, you didn’t,” Victoria says. “I obviously wouldn’t have made plans if I knew.”
“Whatever, it doesn’t matter. But the card was on the fridge. And I did tell you.”
“Cal—seriously—like I’m supposed to pay attention to a tiny card on the fridge. Like I could even find it with all our crap.”
“I didn’t put it there for you to notice it. I don’t go around deliberately turning our daily ministrations into a scavenger hunt. That’s why I said to you on Monday morning, ‘Oh, by the way, I’m seeing Dr. Malcolm on Thursday.’ Can we drop it and enjoy brunch with our friends, who don’t need to be hearing this?”
“Right, so I’m the one taking it too far, as usual. My apologies, dear friends,” Victoria says to us, sweeping a hand to her bosom.
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