Dear Amritsar,
My love for Rom-3-0 burns stronger than a thousand supernovas. I love him more than – wait, that isn’t right. A supernova is an exploding star that can incinerate entire solar systems. Cosmic debris is not romantic. Let me try again.
My love for Rom-3-0 binds us more strongly than the weak nuclear force. Okay, the name may not sound like much, but it’s the force that holds atoms together, one of the four fundamental forces of nature, so you know that it’s an important part of making the universe what it – oh, crap!
Look, my difficulty with metaphors notwithstanding, I love the big lug, okay?
All of my friends in the Lemming Mind have seen us exchange spit (held in ceremonial moccasins with our names engraved in obsolete computer chips on the side – we’re not barbarians, you know!). They were thrilled when he started writing love poems to me, and they were ecstatic when he stopped.
The problem with our relationship can be summed up in a question I often ask him: Rom-3-0, Rom-3-0, wherefore port thou Rom-3-0?
Put another, perhaps less cryptic but definitely not as poetic way, the day I was born, a Fredrickson was implanted in my brain that would allow me to plug into computers through a fingertip interface and even access wireless local area networks. Rom-3-0’s family couldn’t afford a Fredrickson, and he has grown up deprived.
I don’t care! Really, I don’t! Okay, when we’re making out, my digitally-enhanced senses can hear his heart beating faster than a Stanchurian Velocipede AND I can smell the increase in pheromones and various chemicals in his body AND I can ask for advice from my male friends in the Lemming Mind to ensure that I give Rom-3-0 the maximum amount of pleasure. Meanwhile, he gropes around like a demented ape child.
I. Don’t. Care. Rom-3-0 is sweet and kind and really knows how to fill out a spandex gherkin. How could I not love him?
Unfortunately, my family has been beastly about the relationship. And, I don’t mean they project the images of wolves and cheetahs and pandas (Grandpa Strumpet is easily confused) onto my retinas whenever I try to talk about him. Well, not just that. I mean, they forbid me from seeing Rom-3-0, in normal, ultraviolet or any other spectrum of light!
His parents have been no better. They say things to him like, “You know that everybody in her Lemming Hive sees everything that goes on between you, don’t you? It’s like living in the 1960s, but without the exquisite fashions!” And, “You realize that as you get older, your memory will fade but hers will get stronger, don’t you? After you turn 50, kiss any possibility of winning an argument goodbye!” And, “Does her Frederickson get cable?” So far, Rom-3-0’s love for me hasn’t wavered, although he did express curiosity about the cable thing.
O, Amritsar, O, Amritsar, my situation is hopeless, by far. Should we run away, or should we kill ourselves before the end of day?
Jul-1-3-t
Hey, Babe,
Tough one.
I asked my good friend Deepak Chopra about your dilemma, but he told me he would be busy getting his cuticles enlarged (oh, the vanity of men!) and he wouldn’t be available for several months. Perhaps having heard that I was seeking help for your problem, my goodish friend Oprah stopped returning my calls, and she has never done that before, even during the Twine Flu epidemic. My okay but with the potential to be good some day friend Tony Robbins claimed that he was actually Tim Robbins, and insisted he couldn’t help me because he was fighting with Susan Sarandon. Phil, the mechanic from the shop down the street, said this was the Landau’s Problems of relationships; I should have known better than to trust a good friend of the Tech Answer Guy!
Really tough one.
So. It’s down to me. Why am I not surprised? (Actually, I had my surprise glands removed when I was a child, but that knowledge in no way helps you, so forget I answered.)
Many things – skin colour, religion, walls – separate people. Love is the subcutaneous laser scalpel that can cut through the cancer of hate and leave you with an adorable scar on your belly. By all means, run away and try to make your relationship work. On the other hand, you will have to cut yourself off from the Lemming Mind, or else your parents will see every detail of your relationship; if you killed yourself now, you would save everybody a lot of Shakespearean melodrama.
Am I being indecisive? Sorry – I suddenly find I need to get my cuticles enlarged!
Send your relationship problems to the Alternate Reality News Service’s sex, love and technology columnist at questions@lespagesauxfolles.ca. Amritsar Al-Falloudjianapour is not a trained therapist, but she does know a lot of stuff. AMRITSAR SAYS: it’s just a coincidence that my responses to the questions of readers are precisely long enough to fill my word count, and nobody can prove otherwise!