‘Maybe this is the time to experiment with drugs,’ I suggested to my difficult friend while talking about the whole awful cunt Trump thing.
The problem with difficult men is that they have no sense of humour.
‘What do you mean Violet, this is not a time for drugs, this is a time for deep reflection, for looking inward, for…’
‘Oh for fucks sake, I’m kidding, I’m trying to find ways to deal with the world, a bit of LSD…’
‘Reflection, Violet, reflection. Lets see why people voted this way, what they…’
Jesus. I just want to talk about something light. Fun. Quirky.
Anything that is not Trump.
‘No drugs then. Fine. What else can we do?’
I made a few more suggestions…
Write a play together?
Rob a bank?
Join a cult.
He looked at me like I was mad.
‘The thing about Trump,’ he went on…
‘Polygamy,’ I tried.
He was very quiet for a while.
‘You know I don’t believe in marriage Violet, I’m never going to have one wife, why on earth would I have two…’
WHY DO I EVEN TRY.
He has no fucking sense of humour.
He is not funny.
He doesn’t want to do drugs.
And I meant polyamory not polygamy but everyone gets them mixed up and who cares.
It’s very hard to like a man without a sense of humour.
But I do love him a little bit.
And that does make it tricky.