Just Another Silly Love Song - Rich Amooi Page 0,30
leaned forward in her chair. “Dump him!”
I chuckled, not because she was funny, but because she was almost right.
“And that would have been that,” Lori added. “End of story, like Dr. Tough Stuff magically solved everything in the blink of an eye.”
I denied Lori’s prediction with a wag of my finger. “On the contrary, I would never tell anybody to dump their significant other unless I had all the necessary information and could make an informed decision. You dropped the ball on that one since you didn’t find out everything you need to know before dispensing your sugarcoated, diabetes-inducing advice.”
“Do tell.” Lori looked proud to mimic me. “What should I have asked her, Dr. Crackpot?”
“Watch and learn.” I cracked my knuckles, blew on them, and adjusted the microphone. “Heather, what kind of pizza does your boyfriend eat in bed?”
Lori snorted. “That is the most ridiculous question ever. What do his eating habits have to do with their relationship problem?”
“It gives me the first impression of the man’s personality. Heather?”
“Pineapple.”
“Just pineapple? Nothing else?”
“Nope.”
“And do you like pineapple on your pizza?”
“Never,” Heather answered. “I hate pineapple.”
I grinned at Lori and then continued. “And what does he watch on the television while he’s in bed?”
“NCIS.”
“Anything else?”
“No. It’s NCIS all the time.”
“Do you watch it with him?”
“Never. I don’t like that show.”
“And what does he do for a living?” I asked.
“He’s an engineer.”
“And you?”
“Hair stylist.”
I pointed at the microphone. “Dump him!”
Lori’s hand flew up again. “Wait! You would make the worst lawyer ever with that line of questioning. What do any of your questions have to do with anything? You’re delirious and need help.”
I smiled. “It’s simple, my dear Watson. He never orders pizza she likes. And by the way, it’s a huge slap in the face to all Hawaiian pizza lovers out there for not having ham with that pineapple, but that’s another show, and I digress. Heather’s boyfriend doesn’t watch any TV shows she likes. He only cares about himself. Plus, he’s an engineer. You can’t change the mind of an engineer. They’re hardwired differently. They typically show fewer emotions unless they’re geeking out on something. They are perfectly happy in their own little isolated happy place like the office or the bedroom or on the couch in front of the television watching ungodly amounts of Star Trek reruns. And don’t even think of turning the channel because they especially dislike change. Her boyfriend’s theory, if you want to call it that, would be that everything he’s doing in that bedroom is completely normal and comfortable for him and his lifestyle. Based on that alone, he would be very reluctant to consider conflicting data, for example if Heather tells him what he’s doing was wrong and she suggested alternative ways to change things up. That would short-circuit his brain. That’s why I came to an easy conclusion that her relationship is doomed. Dump him, Heather!” I crossed my arms, sat back in my chair and smiled, waiting for her to respond.
I was beginning to like Lori’s stare.
It was kind of cute, actually—a little bit of confusion on her face with just a hint of awe in there. At least, I assumed it was awe. It could have been an aneurysm.
Lori finally awoke from her state of pure amazement. “This must be that next level of ridiculousness you were talking about.”
“Yes, but I have at least one more level. And since you’re not convinced, let’s ask Heather then. Am I right or am I right?” I sat there for a moment, waiting for her to respond, but then heard sniffling coming through my headphones. “Heather? Are you still with us?”
More sniffling. “Yeah . . . I’m here. Sorry.”
Lori shook her head. “Now, look what you did, you big brute. You made her cry!”
Crap.
There was nothing in the world that broke my heart more than a woman crying. Fortunately, I couldn’t see her, but that didn’t make me feel much better about the situation.
“Are you okay, Heather?” Lori asked. “Dr. Tough Love can be pretty harsh, I know.”
She had to rub it in.
Sometimes I was hardcore when I dished out the advice, but I meant well. I believed in the advice I was giving, believed that it was helpful.
Heather sniffled. “It’s not that. Everything Dr. Tough Love said was true.”
I sat up, suddenly feeling much better.
“He’s right,” Heather added. “I need to break up with him. I knew it deep down inside of me, but I was in denial. I guess I thought it