If you love her, why do you roll over in bed and watch Battlestar Galactica every time she asks you to have sex? She pulls your arm, trying to bring you towards her, and you have a mind to send her to the top bunk. You’re twenty years old and have bunk beds. You have a girlfriend who loves you, but who you only see when you want to see her. No, she’s over all the time, but I mean actually see her. It’s like when you pass by something a thousand times, but when you need to find it, you don’t remember how to get there.
She says, “I fucking hate Battlestar Galactica.”
Still, in the morning, she continues to orbit you.