Alright, Brad has made it clear that he would like me to nip this atrocious story-telling behaviour in the bud before it becomes a bad habit.
(What does that phrase mean, nip in the bud? It comes from gardening, surely, when you prune your red-painted roses. You cut off the buds before they grow big … Right? But also, think of this: you do that so the rest of the plant will grow strong. So in relation to atrocious story-telling behaviour, is Brad asking me to quit it with the bad stories so I can focus on making them worse?)
Funnily enough, he doesn’t mean the digressions. He means the rainbow eyes, the bad jokes and most recently, the empty inbox. Brad wants me to make it perfectly clear that he is not the crazy one in this relationship. Brad is a saint who selflessly puts up with me without complaint. Like one time I accidentally crashed into his car and left a teeny tiny scrape across the entire front bumper and he lovingly told me he didn’t mind at all. And then he drove my car into the back of a Ford Territory and scrunched up the whole front end, so I guess then we were even.
And he very generously shares his meals with me because I always get bored of my dinner halfway through and start to wonder if his is nicer. Except for that time in Rome when he had the best pizza ever made – that time he insisted on keeping his own meal. But! he did let me have one bite, just so I could know what I was missing.
He should be knighted for his chivalry. But more importantly, he wants to be noted for his sanity. And respected for dealing with my madness. Because apparently not enough people sympathise with the sane.
Well, Brad, you’ll be happy to learn that actually, a lot of people sympathise with your most imagined affliction. (They all suck, by the way.)
One time when I was quite reasonably saying how frequently I expect my best friend to come shoe shopping with me, Kasey sent Brad a message saying
it must be difficult living with your wife
And do you know, instead of asking what on earth he could possibly mean, or maybe even jumping to my defence at such an outrageous suggestion, Brad just replied
because evidently he thinks it’s nice to be acknowledged.
And then another time I was having lunch with the famous Adam whose stories have now become so legendary, and we were talking about work or how I can’t go to the supermarket because the walls are closing in and everyone’s trying to run into me – something very normal, at any rate. Then suddenly he said, “Poor Brad.”
I was outraged. The story wasn’t even ABOUT Brad! Adam barely even KNOWS Brad. He just felt sorry for Brad because he has to live with me!!!
Kasey said: Oh yeah, that’s common.
me: It’s most undeserved.
Kasey: I know, that’s why we feel sorry for him.
Thanks, guys. And thank you Brad for
letting me tease you at least not minding when I
not stopping me from telling hilarious stories about you.