In honor of one of my favorite writers, TheBloggess, her husband Victor, and Valentine’s Day, I offer you this peek into the Secret Life of The Finance and Me:
The Finance returns home late after a long day of working at [[REDACTED]]. (I’d tell you where, but it’s possible the Finance might box my ears, and ear-bruises are so hard to explain. I mean, what do you say? “I heard myself into a door”?)
Finance puts his bag down and sees me lying on the couch, cupping my lower belly. I groan for his benefit:
FINANCE: (knows what this means) Awh, how was your day?
ME: I have rhinos.
ME: (nodshrug) They’re stomping my uterus. Mean rhinos. With horns and grudges and—
FINANCE: And what are they begrudging?
ME: The other 25 days a month they can’t get into my uterus.
FINANCE: You want me to kill them?
ME: NO I DO NOT WANT YOU TO KILL THEM! YOU’LL ACCIDENTALLY STAB MY UTERUS!
FINANCE: I thought they were doing that already.
ME: They are! They’re goring me with their giant rhino horns! I don’t need you to help them!
FINANCE: (thoughtful) Hm.
The Finance puffs his cheeks out and then makes a blowing sound – tossing his hands outward as if he were Lady Gaga throwing glitter over a screaming horde of Little Monsters.
A beat. I raise only my left eyebrow. ‘Cause I can do that.
ME: Okay, and… what?
FINANCE: I was getting rid of the rhinos.
FINANCE: Yeah, they hate that.
ME: The rhinos hate it when you act like Lady Gaga?
FINANCE: Yes. The rhinos can’t stand when I’m Lady Gaga.
ME: It didn’t work. I don’t think they’re fans. They’re even angrier.
The Finance performs his Lady Gaga glitter-throwing motion again.
ME: Why? Why would you do that when I told you they hate it?
FINANCE: Well, which do they hate more? Lady Gaga or your uterus?
Now I’m confused. I want to take out my uterus and bang it on the table.
ME: All of it. They hate everything. The rhinos are hateful, hateful, hateful— (cringing) oooooh.
FINANCE: You okay?
ME: They don’t like being criticized.
FINANCE: Fine. We’ll talk about something else. Wanna hear what I had for lunch?
ME: No, I want you to get rid of these goddamned rhinos.
The Finance stares at me, dredging up his Extra Reserve Source of Patience. After being together for so many years, this Extra Reserve Source has dwindled from the size of the Pacific Ocean to the size of a tiny puddle of newborn mouse pee.
FINANCE: I had chicken, incidentally. And rice. But the rice was bad. Dry, kinda sucked—
ME: “Waah, waah, my rice sucked, waah.”
The Finance twitches as the pee puddle dwindles even further.
ME: Dude, I have rhinos. They make me bitchy.
FINANCE: The rhinos.
ME: It is. They’re evil.
FINANCE: Right. So what time are you going to bed?
ME: You’re trying to get rid of me.
FINANCE: You? Of course not! (pause) How long do rhinos sleep at a time, d’ya think?