I’m just going to say it, Troy: things haven’t been great between us for a while. But I’m willing to talk about it, and I think you are too—why else would you agree to forgo date night at Chili’s to talk here, in the dilapidated warehouse district where it’s always raining? That shows me you’re willing to try for a reset.
And a reset is what we need: we’ve become one of those vanilla, mass-produced corporate couples we never wanted to be. Our relationship is nothing more than a light-hearted romp. Even when we argue you’re not really listening to what I’m saying. All you’re taking away from our disputes—that end up being neatly resolved in thirty minutes—is some cheesy moral about the value of seeing things from someone else’s perspective. Enough of this, Troy. We need to get real; we need to get gritty.
Going forward we should set some ground rules. First off, more lies. Simmering deceit that leads to explosive fights and culminates in passionate lovemaking on our recently refinished marble countertops will go a long way towards making people see us as a serious couple. And no more improbable coincidences or deus ex machinas. What, we’re all just expected to believe that my missing reading glasses were on your head this whole time?
You think my expectations are unrealistic? Troy, gritty reboots are all about realism. Speaking of realism, we need to get rid of some of these recurring characters. Do the boys from the office really have to come over every Thursday? They don’t seem that well developed or believable. Maybe we could lose one a week? I’m not trying to tell you how to live your life: they can meet a violent end, die from some trendy disease, or even just leave town after a frustrated attempt to make a pass at you is soundly rejected.
The problem goes beyond background characters though. Even you would admit that your job is getting in the way of the kind of relationship we want. Leave that well-paying, nondescript white-collar job you’ve had since grad school and do something with your hands, preferably in a factory with a lot of steam and rough-looking men. It’d be an extra bonus if there are catwalks suspended above the floor; when I come visit you at work we could make love– Er, fuck, on them.
That reminds me—we should really be cussing a lot more.
I recognize this relationship’s storyline is a two-way street, and I’m willing to change too. For instance, I know I’ve got to brood over my past more often if this relationship is to have the suffocating emotional weight it deserves.
Remember how the Chinese restaurant we ate at last month gave me back too much change, and I didn’t say anything to them? I can stretch that into a murder or at least a history of drug abuse. I won’t ask what your history will be, but I do have some suggestions: male prostitute in a decaying Rust Belt metropolis? Cop with a drinking and gambling problem? I can help you come up with sufficiently vivid flashbacks.
You could take one for the team and start drinking; I know club soda is your beverage of choice, but do you know you can mix that with various spirits?
We both need to put in work if we want to be believable, multidimensional characters living in an uncertain, post-9/11, post-Great Recession, post-COVID world. We’ve been trapped in our little bubble for too long. We need to grow up. We need to tackle real issues. We need to have friends who more accurately reflect the U.S.’s shifting demographics.
I know this is a lot to process, Troy, but I had to get it off my chest. Something drastic needs to change, or I may start looking to recast the role of my husband.