When she was a baby, they told her about love.When she was a child, she knew all about it.
At fifteen, for the first time a boy’s eyes met hers in love. She was in love for three weeks. Then he changed his hairstyle.
At twenty, she gave up on the bended knee. She was in love with a man who read Ayn Rand and was destined for great things.
At twenty four, she forgot Valentine’s Day. She was studying for her exams and had a perfect score. She also had a perfect boyfriend, who actually read enough of and about Ayn Rand to realize that she was not perfect. One year later they broke up, as the intellectually mature man in her life could not accept that fact that she landed a better job than him.
At twenty nine, she seduced the nineteen year old son of the partner. It was fun the first few times, but the boy wanted her ‘to be mine, all mine.’ It got trite after a while. She gave up on the semantics of ownership.
At thirty three, she went out for a beer with a friend of hers in a London Public house. They have been vaguely friends and good acquaintances for a long time, and given that they worked in related fields, they kept running into each other. They had swapped stories of sexual conquests and sexual frustrations over the years, and in the pub over some English ale, they were talking about life.
‘Lets get married.’ He told her.
‘Yes – in may be five years? ‘
They agreed, and smiled at each other in embarrassment. Further discussions could not be carried forth as a pub fight had broken out and they were more keen to see it then to talk about their wedding.
But it is boring!
Well, she liked Us.
It is still boring…
Whatever. Lets go back to our game.