that kind of girl

him: you know one of things that always puzzled me about you--one of an infinite number--was the fact that you never wore a watch. never carried around anything with a timepiece on it. and yet you were always so obsessed, so compulsive about the time.

her: I wasn't so obsessed. I wasn't compulsive.

him: you bought clocks all the time. in fact, I ended up with at least two in every room, sometimes 4 or 5(and then you'd set them ahead in bizarre increments of time, by the way). there were clocks in the closet. whenever someone around us asked for the time, I could see you lean in to hear the answer, even if you'd just heard the time.

her: well, I don't like being late.

him: to say the least. I remember we were stuck on Wilshire on our way to [semi-important event produced by semi-close friend] and you actually got out of the car and started trying to walk there. in those heels.

her: so, I don't like being late. that doesn't mean I'm obsessed.

him: darling, the only reason you let me hold your hand was so that you could control the direction my watch was facing.

her: ...

him: I thought it was charming, actually.

her: this conversation has gone on for too long. what time is it?




Resolution #4: I will be the kind of girl who wears a watch.