Love on the Brain

“You’re not going to slow down your pace to match mine, are you?”

“Of course I am.”

Dr. Marie Skłodowska-Curie and Dr. Bee Königswasser-Ward showed up to their wedding ceremonies wearing their lab gowns.

I have had our . . . issues when it comes to social interactions, but I’m befuddled that you haven’t turned out a titanic psychopath despite the family you came from. There has to be a miracle in there, no?”

In fact, I don’t want another flaky, fickle human being to become my Common Era

“Yup. I stomped my way to my office with the rage of a murder of dragons.”

“Is that their collective noun?”

“It should be.”

I briefly protested, but honestly, I’ll let any dude buy me dinner until the gender pay gap is ungapped

IT’S NOT A date.

But if it were—which it isn’t—it would be the best date of my life.

Of course, because it’s not a date, the point is moot.

But. If it were.

Though it’s not

but I wouldn’t want Shmac to think that I’m judging him for taking up with a married woman—I really don’t, especially since her husband sounds like someone I wouldn’t mind pushing down the Eiffel Tower stairs.

My sister yells “What?!” eight more times. “Okay, it’s out of my system. Let us resume. So, you and The Wardass smooched—”

“Feels like there should be a better word for that.”

“You sucked faces. Exchanged germs. Swapped saliva. Canoodled. Snogged.”

“But the different frequencies—”

“Right. That’s where I’m going to scare you.”

“Scare me?”

“Yes.” I make room on the table, and start sketching a diagram. “But don’t be scared.”

“I’m not scared.”

“Good. Stay unscared.”

“I— Why would I be scared?”