After I whined for awhile about being unable to think of anything to write about, Brian offered to interview me. “That’s kind of weird, don’t you think?” I asked. “I mean, I don’t really do the guest blog thing, and you don’t even like to write.”
“No, no,” says my beloved, “I’ll ask the questions, but you’ll do the writing. Get it?”
I think he’s a little unclear as to how this interview thing works, but whatever. We’re not much for convention around here anyhow, so we went outside and sat on the porch swing while Carter rode his bike in circles around the cul-de-sac, and Brian asked me questions.
Him: Why do you want to write?
Me: That’s kind of a dumb question. Nobody cares why.
Him: You pretty much suck at being interviewed, you know?
Me: Fine. What’s the next question?
Him: OK, remember that time a few weeks ago when you shaved your legs? What possessed you to do that?
Me: I don’t know. I guess sometimes I think I should do things like girls do them. I mean, girlie things.
Him: Why do you think you’re not a girl?
Me: Because I don’t do girlie things! You know, pretty things and shaving and, I don’t know, lipstick. Like that.
Him: You can always make sure you’re a girl by checking to see if you still have a vagina, right? That’s reliable for most people.
Me: Hey, is that why boys are always hanging onto their boy parts? To make sure they’re still boys?
Him: Nah, because if boys had boobs, they’d play with those all the time, too. It’s just a boy thing. What’s your biggest regret in life?
Me: From boobs to regret? What is wrong with you?
Him: The biggest regret; what is it? I know it’s not marrying Robert because of the kids, so what is it?
Me: This house. Moving.
Him: Yeah, me, too. Have you ever told that story on your blog?
Me: Not yet. Someday, when I can tell it without being a raging horrible bitch. Or act like it was all my fault. Or whatever. Maybe I’ll never tell it. I don’t know.
Him: What do you like best about me?
Me: You mean, besides your boyish good looks?
Him: No, that’ll do. I am terminally handsome. What’s your favorite shape for a swimming pool? If we could build our own, what shape would you want?
Me: Octagonal. Duh.
Him: You’re weird. OK, so you get to build your dream house. What’s it like?
Me: It’s clean. Somebody else cleans it.
Him: What else?
Me: Oh! There’s an apartment on the roof, and that’s where the ninjas live! Remember when the kids used to say that our dream house should have a team of ninjas on the roof for security?
Him: I meant your dream house, like the floor plan and how many bedrooms and that kind of stuff.
Me: That’s boring. Next question.
Him: What’s your favorite kind of flower?
Me: I don’t care. Not carnations. I don’t like carnations, but otherwise? I don’t care.
Him: You have flower tattoos! Obviously you don’t hate them!
Me: Tattoo flowers! My favorite flowers are tattoo flowers!
Him: What’s your greatest wish for the kids? Or your highest hope for them?
Me: I hope they live lives that they’re proud of. That they’re honorable people. God, that’s so old-fashioned, right? Honorable. That’s a stupid word. Integrity! I want them to live with integrity!
Him: Where do you think you’ll be five years from now?
Me: I don’t know. I don’t want to think about that. You know how fast things can change with Carter. I hope Carter is stable. I hope I’m earning some money. Hey, maybe we’ll be able to move to Canada by then! Wouldn’t that be awesome?
Him: It’s too damn cold in Canada. How would you like to be remembered after you’re dead? What do you want people to say about you?
Me: I thought you were going to ask me funny questions. That’s way intense.
Him: Yeah, well, answer it anyway.
Me: Sigh…I don’t know. Maybe people should lie about me after I’m dead!
Him: No, really. What would you want the kids to say about you?
Me: I don’t know if I can answer that. I hope…I really don’t know. I hope people say I really loved the people I loved. That there was no doubt. I don’t think that’s what they’ll say, though.
Him: Why wouldn’t they?
Me: Sigh…I don’t know! This isn’t supposed to make me cry, right? I don’t think so. Next question!
Him: What’s the one sex position that you haven’t tried and you want to? And can we try it tonight?
Me: I’m not answering that! Not on the front porch or on my blog!
Him: Fine. You can tell me later.