Hilda is worried about you and wants to fix you up with a cousin of hers from Brooklyn.
Ask wearily: “What ’s his name?”
She looks at you, frowning. “Mark. He ’s a banker. And what the hell kind of attitude is that?”
[...] At lunch regard your cream of cauliflower soup with a pinched mouth and ask what on earth he and his wife do together. Sound irritated. He shrugs and says, “Dust, eat, bicker about the shower curtain. Why do you ask?”
Say: “Gee, I don’t know. What an outrageous question, huh?”
He giv…
[...] With the glassed candle by your bed lit and burning away, doze off and on, arranged with excruciating care on top of the covers, the window lamp on in the living room, the door unlocked for him in case he arrives in a passionate flurry, forgetting his key. Six blocks from Fourteenth Street: y…
Shave your legs in the bathroom sink. Philosophize: you are a mistress, part of a great hysterical you mean historical tradition. Wives are like cockroaches. Also part of a great historical tradition. They will survive you after a nuclear attack—they are tough and hardy and travel in packs—but righ…
“I’m thinking of telling Patricia about us.” Be skeptical. Ask: “What will you say?”
He proceeds confidently: “I’ll go, ‘Dear, there ’s something I have to tell you.’ ”
“And she ’ll look over at you from her briefcase full of memoranda and say: ‘Hmmmmmm?’ ”
“And I’ll say, ‘Dear, I think I’…
