How I learned to use the “L” word
I was once told by a lovely lady that it was I who put the “funk” in dysfunctional. I wasn’t sure whether she was referring to my character or to my amorous moves. Either way, it was a petulant poke, and I needed a comeback. So I hit her with my best shot: “Oh yeah?” I replied, in a heady, haughty way. She laughed. “You really are dumb, aren’t you? When are you going to change?” “Oh shit,” I thought. She just nailed me with one of her loaded questions. I’m in big trouble any way I answer. So I replied “You’re good. Now I know why you won that debate contest back in the third grade.”
Not to be bested by a dufus, she changed her tone: “Why don’t you ever use the ‘L’ word?” she asked, while looking longingly into my limpid loopy eyes. My brain instantly went into its defensive mode, knowing that anything I might say from this point onward would arouse her wrath and it would be later heaped upon me in a hellish onslaught of verbal and physical face bashing. Instead, I breathed a heavy sigh of defeat. “Don’t give me any more of your false heavy breathing, buster. I know an evasive breathing maneuver when I hear it. And if you think you can use your pathetic and deprived childhood as a reason for me to pity you, it ain’t workin. Use some of that stale cold air to gin up an L mood, or I may have to limp out or your loony presence forever.”
“That’s an awfully long time,” I retorted, being nearly certain that I had just said the wrong thing again. “You can bet your sweet cheeks it is,” she replied. She quickly snapped her fingers and said, “Come on, lover boy. Pick up the pace. Show me what you’ve got. Tell me you love me, or you’re gonna be lonely. Just pucker up and say the L-O-V-E word or I am G-O-N-E gone!”
I squinted and squirmed and started to speak dumb talk. And being 6 or 8 thousand light years ahead of me she interjected: “Is that a ‘but’ I see forming on your lips?” she intoned. “And speaking of butts, are you gonna love mine, or list it? Got it?”
She really knew how to slice me up into my three main parts: “Lurid, lustful, and love that butt.”
“This L word: Is it lurid?” No. “Lustful?” No. “Aha,” said I. “Love that butt is three words, but now we’re talkin’ my language.”
“No, dumb one. We are not going to name body parts. You probably don’t know the names of more than three of them in any event. Put them all together, add in mind and soul. Then just tell me how much you adore my collection, how you cannot live without them, and why I should give up any part of them to you. Now go for it.”
“Well,” said I. “Your eyes sparkle like champagne. Your nose is nifty too. Your chin is a winner.” She interrupted: “Cut the crap and get to the chase.”
“Down there among the softness and the bushes…” “No. no, no,” said she. "Put it all together and gimme that L word.”
“Oh, I get it. Of course I will still love you in the morning. You know that.”
“Well,” said she. “At least that’s progress. Let’s go to bed. We can continue this love lesson in the morning.”
“Nailed it!” thought I. " Zippety do dah…"
