Look at that sunshine, let's fall in love. Let's not lower our eyebrows once during dinner. Let's separately tell the same men's room mirror: I am a good listener. Let's each of us refrain from dwelling on the telltale signs of recent acne dermabrasion detected on the other's face when the slanting sunlight illuminates it in a way that would otherwise be very flattering. With chirps of astonishment let's celebrate our crushingly banal similarities (we both have younger sisters for whom we feel a distanced but genuine affection) while ignoring our potentially divisive differences (I am a drug addict, you are a racist and an alcoholic and only read graphic novels i.e. comic books). Let's coolly negotiate the terms of our mutual surrender to the most squalid varieties of ecstasy available to our limited imaginations (light bondage, more than a little tipsy for a worknight, that dumb feather thing you like to do). Let's fall in love, but not till Thursday around eleven when my paycheck shows up in my account.