Julio, Paraphrased and Condensed

I.

Julio says, “I saw your redesign. I liked it. Except… I think you should have used green instead of blue. And, instead of the tornado, you should have a picture of France. With cheese.”

I say nothing.

“You know… you should do it totally different.”

The woman in front of me has nice shoes. I look at them.

“Aw, come on… You’re not mad, are you?”

I look at him standing there grinning, practically giggling, and decide to say nothing.

“Don’t you get it? I’m kidding. You know – like you wrote on your blog the other day. You know – Old Men Who Say Annoying Things? I was trying to say something like that so you’d…”

“I know, Julio. I get it. This is the third time you’ve done it since I wrote that entry. I get it.”

“Why aren’t you laughing, then?”

I roll my eyes, indicating mild exasperation and world-weariness.

“Don’t you think that’s funny? Aw, that’s it – I’m not telling you funny things anymore. Hey, you know what would be funny? If you posted what I just said, about France and the cheese, but as if it was serious. Like the annoying old man really said that seriously. Then your readers would be disgusted, but you and I would know that the joke was on them. Wouldn’t that be funny?”

“No.”

“Aw… Yes, it would. You’re so… That is funny. France and cheese… heh!”

“I thought you didn’t want me to talk about you on my blog.”

“I don’t.”

“Well, then…”

“But this would be playing a joke… and you wouldn’t say my name.”

“That’s not even funny. Why would I do that?”

“Aw, you’re just mean. That is funny. I’m not gonna…”

“Why don’t you just start your own blog and say all those hilarious things yourself, then?”

“Because I’m not going to blog. I’m never going to be a blogger.”

“Whatever.”

“France… cheese… heh.”

II.

“It must be so hard to be you.”

“It is, but why do you say that?”

“Because, here you are, wanting to be taken all seriously with your glasses and your book and your feminism. But, then, no man can take you seriously because you have the body of a… of a…”

“Of a what?”

“Of a kitten.”

“A kitten?”

“Yeah. You know.” (He makes the international sign language for “woman with big breasts and hips”.)

“Oh. A sex kitten.”

“Exactly.”

“Hmm. Well…” I am slightly embarrassed. “Well, it’s nice that you think that, but I actually don’t have that problem, because, whether or not you’ve noticed it, to most men, I’m a little bigger than the cultural ideal.”

“Forget that. They’re idiots. You know, if you went to my country and lay down on your stomach in a bathing suit, men would be lining up to put suntan lotion on your back.”

“Really?” I consider this. “Well… golly. Well, that’s nice. I guess.”

(I haven’t bought my plane ticket yet, though.)

III.

“What are you doing?”

“Working and listening to everyone eavesdrop on our phone conversation.”

“Oh, okay.” Sulky.

“What’s wrong?”

“I just wanted to say… after that conversation we had earlier… it must be nice.”

“What do you mean?”

“I just mean… it must be nice. To be so smart, when everybody else is so dumb.”

I sigh. “What – are you really mad about that?”

“No. I’m not mad… I’m just saying that it must be nice. To be so smart when I’m so dumb, I mean.”

“Look, Julio… I can’t argue with you right now. Can we talk about this later?”

“I’m not arguing. You are.”

“No – you’re the one who just called and started picking an argument with me…”

“Oh, don’t try to turn it around on me now.”

I look at the phone in disbelief.

“No, okay. Actually, I think it’s kind of sexy when you argue with me.”

“Okay – once again, you’re reminding me of why I don’t date Mexicans anymore.”

“But I’m not Mexican…”

“Look, I gotta go, okay? Can we talk about this later?”

“Okay, but… this is your last chance to talk to me today. I’m leaving pretty soon.”

“Okay. Bye.”

“Wait -”

“What?”

“Aren’t you gonna say what you said last time?”

“What?”

“You know – what you said last time we argued.”

“What did I say?”

“You know… You said, ‘Don’t you worry your pretty little head about it.'”

“I did? I did, didn’t I? Heh. That’s funny.”

“No, it’s not. It’s mean.”

“Then why do you want me to say it?”

“Well… it’s kind of funny.”

“All right. Listen. I gotta go. Don’t you worry your pretty little head about anything, okay?”

“Heh. You just talk to me because you think I’m pretty, don’t you?”

“Yes. Yes, I do.”

“Like I’m a blonde, huh?”

“Yes. You’re a blonde sex kitten.”

“Okay. Talk to you later, then.”

“All righty, you silly. Bye.”