I told you dirty jokes until you laughed.

“It’s been shitty,”  you told me.

So I told you the one about the Pope doing a crossword.

“Stop me if you know it. So, the Pope is doing a crossword,” I laugh,  “and then and then um,” I’m not very good at telling jokes, but you listen anyway,  “oh! And he goes ‘but there’s only four letters in cunt!'”

I messed that up. I always get to the punchline to soon, but you laugh. And that’s the point.

I do anything to make you laugh.

“Wanna hear another one?”

I tell him the one involving a doctor and the wife of a politician.

But halfway through I forgot the punchline.

“You’re not very good at telling jokes.” He tells me. “But I still like you.”

“Guess I’m not going to be a stand up comic like I wanted.” I tell him.

“So what are you going to do with your life now?”

“I think I’ll finally join the circus.”

“Lion tamer?”

“Exactly.”

We both laugh.

“So what happened?” I ask him. I put the tiny percolator on the stove and turn it on.

“When?” He goes to the fridge and pulls out a gallon of milk.

“Grab the small sauce pan from the cupboard.” I tell him. “And I dunno, you said it’s been shitty. I’m asking why?”

“Oh.” He set the pan on the stove and poured in enough milk for both of us. “Doesn’t matter anymore.”

He smiles at me and turns the heat on and sets it on high.

“Are you feeling ‘not shitty’ now?” I hand him a whisk. “Make the milk extra frothy.”

“Of course. I’m with you.” He starts to whisk the milk as it heats up.

I groan. “Stop falling in love with me. You know I’m saving myself for Johnny Depp.” I stick my tongue out at him.

“I’m sorry to tell you, but that ship has sailed.”

“Are you saying that Johnny Depp will never fall in love with me?”

“I’m saying I’ve already fallen in love with you.”

The espresso finishes percolating and I cannot bring myself to look at him.