...That Offends Me

Wrights of Howth put out a big tray of smoked salmon (with toothpicks) for people to taste. I think that’s gross to begin with. You made your husband stop so you could taste the salmon. You grabbed a toothpick, harpooned the piece you wanted, ate it, and licked the toothpick. You repeated. Then, with your used toothpick, you poked around the tray, moving pieces of salmon so you could find the perfect piece to eat next, smearing your saliva all over the rest of the salmon. When you were done, you left your toothpick on the tray, speared into the remaining salmon.

You ordered your Burger King meal after I ordered mine. As the surly burger-wench put mine together on a tray, you helped yourself to my french fries.

Trying to find the perfect Indian sauce for your dinner, you opened jar after jar, breaking the seals, and sticking your nose in each for a good old sniff. You closed the jars up, and put them back on the shelf, until finally you found one that appealed to you.

You submitted an essay to me on the subject of John Stuart Mill, and in it you misspelled “Mill” fifteen times.

I said “if you so much as touch me I’ll break your arm” and elbowed you hard in the gut when your fingers grazed my shoulder. Then I told you that I would never sleep with you. Ever. Ever ever. I even explained that if you were the last man on earth, humanity would be doomed.

The next day you sent me an e-mail asking me to be your girlfriend, claiming you want to “support” me and watch me “grow”.