"Hey baby, chill out. I met a friend of yours. That should soothe you-"
"I'm dating an imbecile and I should be soothed by this?"
A long pause, then, "Baby, I'm not an imbecile. You're very cool."

"Do you think I'm actually being stalked?" I ask. "Wait - how cool."

I'm just staring at nothing or what I imagine is nothing until I'm finally moved to say, "As a general rule you shouldn't expect too much from people, darling," and then I kiss her on the cheek.
"I just had my makeup done, so you can't make me cry."

"I am so tired of looking at that empty expanse that's supposed to be your face-"

"A smart suit," she sighs. "Being buff. A cool haircut. Worrying about whether people think you're famous enough or cool enough or in good enough shape or . . . or whatever." She sighs, gives up, stares at the ceiling. "These are not signs of wisdom, Victor," she says. "This is the bad planet."

She waves me away. "Animals need as much love and respect and care as we give people."
I consider this. I think about all the things I've seen and done, and I consider this.
"I think they're better off without that, baby," I say. "In fact I think they're doing okay."