February 26, 2010

Fact is Better: Would You Marry Me if I Was A Nutjob?

The Photographer wanted to get a spicier pepper to cut up for our tacos. He picked three or four that looked good and chopped them excitedly when we got back to my place.

At some point he rubbed his nose and started freaking out, complaining that his nose was on fire and that he was relatively sure he was having an allergic reaction. In my ever compassionate ways I told him he should probably go wash his hands, than his face, then come back to eat, because I was starving and wouldn’t wait around for him.

He went to the bathroom, came back out, picked up his plate to eat and started whining again.

The Photographer: *rubbing his cheeks really hard* “It still feels like my FACE IS BURNING OFF!!!”
Me: “Well, it doesn’t look like it.”
The Photographer: “It’s burning. Really bad. You know, I must have juice from those peppers under my fingernails and every time I touch my face, it must be making it worse.”
Me: “Or you’re hysterical.” (*reference to my potential brain disease actually just being hysteria*)
The Photographer: “I don’t think your crazy is rubbing off on me.”
Me: “You never know. Speaking of which, if the doctors decide I am crazy, are you still going to hang out with me?”
The Photographer: “Well, sure. It’s not like the ‘sleep-walk-into-the-kitchen-to-retrieve-a-butcher-knife-and-kill-me’ crazy. So, I’m cool with it.”
Me: “Sweet. What if they tell me I only have a month to live? Would you marry me?”
The Photographer: *blush* “What?! That’s kind of random.”
Me: “Right, but I’m going to want to do as much as I can. And getting hitched might be fun.”
The Photographer: “I don’t know.”
Me: “Why not? It’d be a new try for me, and what would it matter to you – I’d be dead within a month, so you’d be a widower. I bet ladies think widowers are hot. So, would you marry me if the doctors told me I only had one month to live?”
The Photographer: “Sure, I’d marry you if they announce you only have a month to live.”
Me: “What about six months? If they told me I only had six months left to live, would you marry me?”
The Photographer: “Yeah.”
Me: “What about a year?”
The Photographer: *really long pause*
Me: “I lost you at the year mark hunh?”
The Photographer: “That’s a long time to commit someone who might be certifiably crazy.”
Me: “Says the boy who’s face is melting off.”

True story.

Further proof fact is better than fiction.