“I’m Always Trying to Fill My God-shaped Asshole”
ME: I feel so lucky to have met you.
ME: Grindr usually sucks, but this time I hit the jackpot.
ME: We have so much in common: writing… films…
ME: Plus, you’re so fucking hot.
FP: Are we going to have sex now, or what?
“I’ve Been Ready for Marriage Since Kindergarten, But I’m Still Not Ready to Date”
ME: 2 Requiem 2 Dream.
FP: Mulholland Drive: Tokyo Drift.
ME: Antichrist 2: Satanic Boogaloo.
FP: An American Psycho in Paris.
ME: Could we take a break from sequel puns and talk about where this relationship is going?
FP: I already told you, I don’t do relationships.
ME: Trainspotting 2: Back on the Habit.
ME: Sometimes I feel like such a poseur compared to real writers like you.
FP: What do you mean? I liked that story you showed me.
ME: Yeah, thanks… But that was from a few years ago.
FP: So what have you written lately?
ME: Mostly tweets, I guess?
ME: I sit on the toilet a lot, with the exhaust fan on. It’s the closest thing I have to a meditation room.
FP: That’s kind of disgusting.
ME: (sighs) I know.
ME: I hate politics.
FP: But everything is political. It’s all politics.
ME: Then I guess I hate everything. Except, of course, for you…
ME: I worry every time I get gas that I’ve parked too far from the pump, that the hose won’t reach my tank. But it almost always does.
ME: Seems metaphorical, right?
ME: I wrote a poem for you.
ME: Backsliding, backtracking
I can’t stop relapsing
You’re brain dynamite and
My skull keeps collapsing
I’m hung up, left hanging
Forgive my haranguing
I know we’re not boyfriends
But damn I love banging!
ME: What’d you think?
FP: Aren’t rhymes kind of cliché?
ME: But I love rhyming — it makes the words seem like they belong together.
“I Don’t Have Crushes, I Have Obliterations”
ME: The eBook of Mormon.
FP: The Phantom of the Opera Browser.
ME: The Content Producers.
ME: Have I told you how much I enjoy our pun-athons?
FP: You tell me constantly.
ME: You like them too, right?
ME: Hey, um, not to be annoying or anything, but I noticed that you were tweeting earlier, when you weren’t texting me back.
FP: Yeah, so what?
ME: Well, if you had your phone… and you had time to tweet… then why didn’t you have time to text me back?
FP: It’s not a lack of time that’s the problem.
ME: I feel like my body is half BPD, half fat.
ME: You’re not going to disagree? To try and make me feel better?
FP: Maybe 60 / 40?
ME: Could I pick the movie this time? Maybe something less weird?
FP: Why would I want to watch anything I’m not interested in?
ME: But I watch the movies you want to watch all the time.
FP: Well, no one’s forcing you.
ME: Koyaanisqatsi it is.
ME: Emotions are the “bad touch” of the mind.
ME: That’s why they’re called feelings.
FP: Was that supposed to be a joke?
ME: I know I’ve been kinda annoying lately, so I wrote you another poem.
ME: I panic you hate me
I push you away
I text you to death and
I’m never okay
I beg for forgiveness
then fuck up again
I’m not even comfortable
in my own skin
I want you to love me
I say I love you
So I will try harder
To prove my love true
FP: I don’t know what’s worse — your neediness, or these poems.
“Too Bad I Didn’t Spring for the Relationship Insurance”
ME: Bareback Mountin’.
ME: There Will Be Cum.
ME: Django Uncircumcised.
FP: I don’t want to see you anymore.
ME: Didn’t our time together mean anything?
FP: I told you from the start, I didn’t want this.
ME: Then why did you go along with it?
FP: What was I supposed to do?
ME: Okay, look, I know I’m hard to be with. But you can’t possibly hate me more than I already hate myself.
FP: Wanna bet?
ME: Please, give me another chance.
FP: All I’ve done is give you chances.
ME: So why can’t I have one more?
FP: I found someone else. Someone not crazy.
ME: I wish instead of meeting you I’d gotten cancer or something, because cancer would have fucked me up less.
FP: Do you realize how insensitive that is to people who’ve actually had cancer?
ME: I just wish people were as sympathetic to emotional problems as they are to physical ones.
FP: You expect everyone to feel sorry for you, when you’re the one who fucked up.
ME: Roses are red
Violets are blue
You regret our romance
I guess I do, too
Daisies are yellow
Lilies are white
My shrink said we’re toxic
She’s probably right
My flowers were special
I watered with pride
Despite my best efforts
The flowers all died
My soil is barren
My garden is cursed…
But I might like myself more
If you’d liked me first
FP: If I hadn’t already dumped you, I would have dumped you over that.
“We Were Canceled Years Ago, But I Still Watch the Reruns”
ME: Even though we were bad for each other, I miss you all the time.
FP: I don’t think of you at all. What’s it going to take for you to move on?
(fade to black)