This Conversation Has Ceased To Be Interesting, Now That You've Mentioned Your Boyfriend

Whoa...did you just feel that? What happened? There has been a shift in our universe. Things have suddenly become much more bleak...almost gloomy. Seconds ago, our conversation could not have been more engaging. It was as if the words were bubbling from our mouths like a giggling brook. But now every syllable you speak hits the ground with a sickening thud.

It cannot be denied. This conversation has ceased to be interesting, now that you've mentioned your boyfriend.

How could this have happened? When your gaze drew me across the room, I was certain that your prose would hold me riveted. Since we're both guests at Sheila's party, I correctly assumed that she was a mutual friend. My inquiry of this fact was the launching point to a tete-a-tete that promised to leave us drunk with cognition.

Everything was perfect! You laughed at my wit, and I admired your vocabulary. We maintained eye contact throughout! It was as if the forces of yin and yang had stopped their swirling to hold court over mutual interests! Time stood still as we danced the giddy dance of linguists! Chet Baker! Australian Shiraz! Our hatred of "Tomkat"! These topics conspired together to produce a work to rival Shakespeare! Our hearts raced! Our breath came in short gasps, as our chatter rose to a crescendo, promising to burst forth like a geyser of impassioned speech, leaving us panting like spent swimmers, eager to snatch a moment's rest before diving back into the tepid river of colloquy!

And then, like the Hindenburg, it all came crashing to the ground. Oh, the humanity!

It was during our discussion of the war in Afghanistan. I was waxing philosophic on the Qajar Dynasty, when you said the words that would careen our palaver into the pitch.

"My boyfriend watches the news, and he says...".

Now all I hear is garble. How could this have happened? Why was the elegant sandcastle of our conversation felled by such a clumsy, backhanded swipe? How quickly the sweater of our parley has unraveled! The sound of your voice, once music to my ears, has now taken on the muffled quality of a Charles Schultz teacher.

And I am trapped! Doomed to see this hellish correspondence to its bitter end! Like Tantalus’ antithesis, I am forced to gorge on an endless feast of chatter! Release me from the limp and leaden bonds of this mundane yak! I MUST BE FREE!

And then it ends. You depart for a powder, and I refresh my drink. And I am left to ponder, how could things have gone so sour? Our talk burst forth from the gates like a champion thoroughbred, only to snap its ankle on a rut in the track. A pothole that, apparently "watches the news". A cavity whose name is Chad, and who wears the same cologne as me. How sad that his spectre has ripped the head off the delicate flower that was our conversation.

And yet I cannot help but smile. What we had created was more than just a series of stories punctuated by awkward pauses. And we didn’t just wait for our turns to talk…we listened. On any other day we may have gone through the motions: pretending to care while staring at each other through self-made walls. But not tonight. Tonight we had a dialogue. And that is something that is, these days, unfortunately rare.

God-speed you dynamo of discourse! You enchantress of exchange! And much happiness to you and Chad! As for me? I had a delightful conversation.

And we’ll always have Chet Baker.