possible future conversation with Victor

11/01/2008

the breakup

Tarah: “Hey, my angel, how are you today?”

Victor: “Um, not too bad, thank you …”

Tarah: “Skat, what’s wrong?”

Victor: “I think we need to talk …”

Thinking she had won the marriage lotto, Tarah gets ready for a long talk on whether diamond rings are a better buy than tanzanite ones. She gets all excited about the possibilities when Victor mentions

“I don’t think we’re working out”

Stares at him, dumbfounded, then breaks down and sobs heavily.

Victor looks sheepish, and is perplexed; he doesn’t know what to do with a crying female, especially not one he is attempting to break up with. He’s only had to do this once, a long, long time ago and then it was made easier by the fact that she cheated on him. This time around, it is a lot more difficult.

Tarah: “Fuck, I should’ve known you would do this to me! Why now, though? Just when I thought we’re starting to get along!”

Victor: ” I don’t think we’re cut out for one another: I like Franz Fanon, you don’t; I actually get Franz Fanon and all the rest of the philosophers, you don’t. I like …”

Tarah slaps him hard, and storms out of his living room.

Victor: “Tarah, come back, please! Where are you going?”

Tarah: “I’m going somewhere else, anywhere where I can feel clever. I’m sorry I’m not as clever as you want me to be, damn it.”

Victor: “Ai, skat. It’s not as easy as that. You would need to study long and hard to be as clever as I am. And, frankly, I would want the future mother of my children to have a PhD in Rocket Science before we settle down, which I’m planning to do next year already. Do you have a PhD in Rocket Science framed somewhere?”

Tarah: “No, and I don’t care. You’re the one who contacted me on that damn site, was it not?”

Victor: “Yes, that’s true, but I was under the impression that you’re a student!”

Tarah: “And when you figured out I’m not, you decided you’ll just shag me then and forget about me later on, right?”

Victor: “It’s not as easy as that, skat. I need a clever girlfriend who can go on to become my intellectual trophy wife one day.”

He ponders, becomes engrossed in his thinking. Tarah is still sobbing by the time he looks up and he snarls “I don’t really think you can cut it. quick, give me a summary of A Brief History of Time?”

Completely shocked, she stutters “But … but … I haven’t …”

Victor: “And that’s my point exactly! Out, you ignorant louse, be away with ye!”

Still sobbing uncontrollably, Tarah packs her bags, snatches her Marian Keys novel from the bedside table (she doesn’t normally read MK, but a frenemy recommended it to her) and makes a move for the door.

She’s very sad now, for she was hoping Victor is the man of her dreams, her knight in shining armour. Or at least the knight clutching the latest book by Richard Dawkins. Alas, it was not meant to be. Her next boyfriend/current squeeze/lover/pet fish will not have a Masters in Philosophy and will not be a lecturer anywhere. He will think she is as clever, if not more so, than Patricia de Lille. Ai, tog.

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