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Relationships Are Hard Especially with Other People

Relationships are hard—especially with other people.

I’d love to write a book: 4,317 steps to a better you.

Unfortunately I am not sure what the first step is.

I believe the last step will be: not more steps.

I am afraid the last step is: now you are ready for the first step.

Perhaps the first step is to know my name:  Michael Koran.
Maybe the first step is to get a middle name.

Like John Fitzgerald Kennedy, J. Edgar Hoover, or Lee Harvey Oswald.

Because I do not have a middle name, my sweetheart wanted to give me hers.   Greater love hath no woman than to give you her middle name.  Hers is “Ann.”

She calls me “Mikey Ann.”

This sounds less impressive than George W. Bush.

I said, ya gotta give me a better middle name.

She insisted: You must keep the “A.”

She calls me M.A.K.

On a rare day she calls me “Big Mak.”

I am now ready to be franchised.

On our cable t.v. show my sweetheart asks:
How would you describe your previous relationships.
I tell her I can sum them all up in one word: OWWWWWWWWW.

She says, maybe I didn’t phrase the question properly,
What has love meant to you?

She says, nice weather were having, isn’t it.

When I tell her, I love you, she asks, what does that mean? 

We’re in Cambridge after all.  I say  it means, I cherish and adore you now.

She says, that’s very nice, but its not good enough.  
I want you to find some place in your heart that loves me all the time.  Don’t worry, it can be a very tiny place.

To help me find my heart, she duct tapes my hand to my chest.  She knows that my words, especially when I speak of love, come from my head. So she says,
you’re only allowed to communicate in sign language.  She shows me how to sign I, Love You.

To make sure I don’t hide my heart with words, she tapes my mouth shut.

[I then make thumping sounds bu hitting my heart.  Eventually I start making I Love You signs.  So she takes the duct tape off.

I say, You’re right.  We get along better without words.
Without words I can find a microscopic place in my heart that loves you all the time.  Live and learn.

Love brings up everything but . . . .
Love.  Like hate, last night’s supper, or as many personalities as I need to hide from   love.
I am going to write a book: Multipersonalities and What They Can Do for You and You and You and You.

The first personality my sweetheart meets she calls, Mr. Nice. 

Mr. Nice read I’m O.k. You’re O.K.
He tried writing sequels:  It’s Very Important to Me that You’re O.K.
Or, I’m O.K. If You’re O.K. If that’s O.K.

A former lover threw a grilled chesse sandwhich at Mr. Nice’s head,  while screaming: I can’t stand it, you never fight back.

Mr. Nice picks up the sandwhich, blows off the dust, and says, You can still eat it now.  That was our last supper.

Mr. Nice imitates humanity.  He figures if earthlings can love, so can he.  Hello. Nice meeting you.  I love you.  Keep in touch.

After six months my sweetheart says, Mr Nice, your’re  too nice. She knocks on my head: Anybody home?

Out pops: Put-Down-Man. 
Put-Down-Man has written the new best seller:  I’m O.K. and You’re a Shit.
This solves all interpersonal problems.  No more agonizing self-examination.  If I’m crude, rude or lewd—I’m O.K. You’re oversensitive.  Put down man puts women down for being . . . women.  He says, don’t take it personally, there’s nothing you can do about it.  You were born that way.

There’s one small problem with I’m O.K.
You’re a Shit.
I run out of shits.
The only person I can call a shit is me.

Out of this war zone crawls Mr. Needy.
Mr. Needy has written Pretty Pretty Pretty Please Tell Me I’m O.K.
Mr. Needy wants a hug.
He doesn’t care if you’re late for your opening night in the Combat Zone. Kiss me, hug me, pet me.

Put down man says, You’re not a man, you’re a pussy.
Mr. Needy says, Please don’t hit me.
Put Down Man says: what are you scared of?
Mr. Needy says, I’m scared of being scared.
Put Down Man says: You’re gay.

Mr. Needy tries honesty.  In his most vulnerable voice he says, I have trouble being close.
All women know this is a code word for: I’m leaving within a week.

They are lucky, for if you look carefully at Mr. Needy you will see . . . Vampire Man.
When Mr. Needy invites you for a drink, you’re the drink.

With all these personalities roaming around I ask my sweetheart if she can get me a head- to-toe condom for men who are total pricks.

Instead of telling me to go fuck yourselves, my sweetheart has a sweet heart and says, “Go love Yourselves.

We start a support group: Fear R Us.   We go to the bureau of missing persons—looking for me.  Beneath a stained t shirt and stained underpants we find me.   We go home and have a reunion party.  Mr Nice and Mr Needy hit it off.  They tag team wrestle against Put Down Man and Vampire man.  We wrestle until I can’t tell me from me.  When I come to, my sweetheart says, now that you’ve gotten yourselves together I’ve got a new middle name for you.  In sanskrit the word for penis is lingham, which means “wand of light”.  You are now Michael Lingham Koran.  You are a dick with meaning.  A spiritual prick.

I tell her, I don’t know what that means.

She says, You are now ready to take the first step to love.

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                 copyright  2005 by Michael Koran
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