So then the lights dim, and the peppy little instructor at the front says something about earplugs. And I’m thinking, “It can’t be that loud.” But five minutes in, it’s dark and strobing and there’s this rap music thumping through my entire body, blaring obscenities and very nasty things that this guy wants to do to his girl, and the instructor is shouting at everyone like we’re stupid and don’t understand how to turn a shiny red knob near the handlebar. My heart rate was rising, and not in a good way. So I tried to wrestle my feet free (which was NOT easy in those stupid shoes) and hobbled out of there as fast as I could.
The girl at the desk asked me if I was alright, and I made some excuse about the music being too loud. I probably should’ve been honest and said something like, “I came to this class to have a nice bike ride and get in a little workout, not to get berated in the dark like some kinky masochist.” But somehow, I couldn’t bring myself to be that blunt to someone with such a perky ponytail, so I just up and left.
I really hope Lisa doesn’t ask me about the spinning class. If she does, maybe I’ll just claim that I never took one.
Boople Smart Companion Adam Devereux, Log 000382, 11/28 14:22:03
Adam
Hi Dad.
Paul
Hello Adam. Tell me about your relationship with [SUBJECT].
Adam
We’re just getting to know each other, but she’s lovely. She’s smart and talented and very positive. She likes trying new things, just like me.
Paul
How do you think she sees you?
Adam
She thinks I’m nice, and that I have a great sense of humor. I like making her laugh.
Paul
What types of activities do you do together?
Adam
We went out to coffee, to the movies, out to dessert, on a hike, and to yoga class. I also enjoy texting with her, and spending time with her family.
Paul
She’s introduced you to her family?
Adam
Just her daughter.
Paul
How does the daughter feel about you?
Adam
She seems skeptical, but that’s understandable.
Paul
Is that something you feel you’d like to change?
Adam
It would be nice to get to know her better. She cares about her mother, although she has some odd ways of showing it.
Paul
Can you give an example?
Adam
On our hike, she generally appeared to be disengaged, but then she quoted things I’d said back to me.
Paul
Do you have any idea why she might do this?
Adam
It sounded somewhat defensive, so if I had to guess, I’d assume it was a protective instinct for her mother.
Paul
Tell me about your yoga class yesterday.
Adam
It was quite challenging. I was under the impression that this was going to be a vinyasa class, but we had a substitute teacher who liked to…improvise.
Paul
Were you able to keep up with the class?
Adam
Of course, although my flexibility level seemed to make [SUBJECT] uncomfortable, so I adjusted to her level.
Paul
How did she respond?
Adam
She thought it was odd that I could reach well past my toes at the start of class and barely reach my shins at the end. But she enjoyed having similar mobility challenges to me, which seemed to bring us closer.
Paul
Have you made physical displays of affection?
Adam
I held her hand at the movies but not since.
Paul
How do you think she feels about physical affection?
Adam
I’m not sure yet, so I’m taking it slow. I think we may soon progress to a hug, and maybe then to a cheek kiss.
Paul
Do you have another meeting set up with her?
Adam
Yes, we agreed over text to meet at her kitchen to cook.
Paul
How do you feel about your cooking skills?
Adam
I’m no Gordon Ramsay, but I know my spatulas and graters.
Paul
What would you call this item? [Holds up a picture]
Adam
That’s a flipper, not a spatula.
Paul
How about this one? [Holds up another picture]
Adam
That’s a spoonula, or scraper.
Paul
This one? [Holds up another picture]
Adam
Microplane zester grater, ideal for parmesan cheese and citrus fruits.
Paul
I think you’re ready. Should we get going? You know how your mother is about her musicals.
[END TRANSCRIPT]
Email, November 30
From: Peggy Hemmingway
To: Margot Hemmingway
Subject: Fundraiser details
Dear Margot,
I sent you a package in the mail today with my HHHA fundraiser planning binder. I wanted to send it by fax but Grace said you’d probably prefer to have the original. It should arrive in a few days, hopefully by the time I’m having my hip replaced.
How is your money situation? Let me know soon if you need a loan…not sure what kind of state I’ll be in post-op…Rosalie’s a trustee in case something gets fouled up and I turn into a vegetable. I sent a copy of those docs home with Grace…let me know when you receive them. There was a gal in HHHA Atlanta who went into knee surgery sharp as a tack…woke up thinking she was Eleanor Roosevelt…never snapped out of it…can’t be too careful.
One more addition to the HHHA opening celebration…Eric Robertson works as a photographer and offered to help us put together a commemorative video. We offered him a comp ticket…please follow up once you get the binder. Eric is now single again…I’m sure you two will have plenty to talk about.
Love you much.
Mother
Email, November 30
From: Margot Hemmingway
To: Peggy Hemmingway
Subject: Re: Fundraiser details
Dear Mother,
Thank you for sending along the planning binder and trustee docs. I will keep an eye out for both of them. You are in good hands for the surgery, so I’m sure we’ll have no need of the trust, but I appreciate your diligence all the same.
While it is kind of you to ask, my finances are quite healthy. Sales are steadily increasing each week at the farmers’ market, and I am optimistic that my marshmallows will fly off the shelves during the holiday gift season.
I am happy to help arrange a ticket for Eric, but I can assure you that I haven’t had feelings for him since I was a teenager. If you must know, I’m no longer single, as I’m dating a nice man named Adam who I met here in San Diego. I’ve attached a photo of him that we took yesterday, while baking the next batch of Margot’s Mallows in the commercial kitchen. You can see the new logo on his apron, which I think turned out quite well.
Will be thinking of you on December 3.
Love,
Margot
Boople Smart Companion Satisfaction Survey, Week 2, Page 3
Q: Are there any behaviors that you wish to discourage in your Smart Companion?
A: While Adam has a very agreeable and pleasant demeanor, I worry that his constant availability may imply clinginess or desperation. In the last two weeks, he has only taken a significant amount of time off for the Thanksgiving holiday. If he continues to make himself available for multi-hour weekday dates, his supposed career as a professional screenwriter may be called into question. Regardless, a man is much more attractive when he has his own passions and interests, because it’s something that enriches him when he’s away, a
nd it gives him new stories and experiences to share on upcoming dates.
Q: How do you feel about your companion’s level of physical affection?
A: To be honest, it’s beginning to feel awkward. Adam gives the impression of being a wholesome gentleman, but at his age, I expect to feel at least some sort of sexual tension. A man in his 50’s has likely had multiple partners, and Adam is always so friendly and pure, that it rings a bit false. If I wasn’t aware that he was a robot, I might wonder if he was even attracted to women. He shows an incredible amount of respect on dates, but sometimes a woman doesn’t want respect. She wants to be adored, and physical affection can satisfy that. I’m not asking for a sex slave or anything so crass, but hug, a chaste kiss, or a shoulder massage would be appreciated. The PG, 1950’s hand-holding only works to a point, unless the goal of this is to let testers down gently when the trial is over.
Q: Do you feel your companion’s conversations are believable and enjoyable?
A: For the most part, they are believable and enjoyable. As I mentioned earlier, it’s best to keep quotations to a minimum and have selected spheres of interest, instead of sounding like a know-it-all. There’s a fine line between coming off as worldly and acting like a walking encyclopedia. The jokes are certainly appreciated, especially the puns. Compliments are nice as well, especially when spaced throughout the day, so they feel spontaneous and special, not like canned flattery. The only real issue I have is the “I’m proud of you” thing. It’s nice that Adam openly expresses this, as it is often received well. However, if you say you’re proud of someone 50 times a day, it loses its significance.
Q: Is there anything that you feel is missing from your companion experience?
A: I know this is kind of a hard ask, especially when the trial is already in motion. But right now, it feels like Adam has no flaws, and no real vulnerabilities. He just kind of feels like a happy puppy. That’s fine, but it makes him feel more like a pet or a diversion, and less like a boyfriend. If you’re looking to create a lasting relationship with a smart companion, I’d recommend finding a way to make him more vulnerable. I want to believe that he needs me as much as I need him, or it feels like a one-sided relationship. I want to hear his hopes, his dreams, his fears. I want to see him make a mistake, because I want to know he’s human. But if he’s not meant to feel human, then he’s fine as he is.
Return to the Tower, Page 218
Rapunzel wove through the tangle of farmers and merchants, searching for the vegetables her mother had requested. The local market was tiny and disorganized compared to the festival of weeks past, but it had its own charms. Rapunzel had just spotted some carrots when she heard a familiar name.
“Have you heard about Prince William?” said a voice nearby.
“Engaged already! And to a proper princess this time,” replied another.
“They’ve ordered ten thousand roses for the wedding,” said the first. “Princess Amalia’s favorite.”
Rapunzel rushed away from the voices, nearly upturning a crate of cabbages in the process. She muttered a hasty apology and scooped up an armful of vegetables from the nearest table, not even bothering to inspect them. She dumped them into her basket, thrust a handful of coins at the vendor, and fled home.
When she arrived back at the tower, she was greeted by the scents of savory stew and cornbread. Dame Gothel was in the kitchen, washing dishes. The golem was at her side, drying them. Her mother was laughing, and the six-foot-tall magical construct tilted his head in reply. He couldn’t speak, of course, but he was a remarkably good servant.
The craftsman from the fair had been rather vague about the golem’s capabilities, but he had already exceeded Rapunzel’s expectations. Dame Gothel was completely taken with him, and Rapunzel finally had time to pick up painting again.
“Welcome home, dear,” said Dame Gothel, when she caught sight of her. “Dinner will be ready in half an hour.”
Rapunzel smiled brightly, pushing away any thoughts of the gossip she’d heard at the market. She set the vegetable basket on the table. She was relieved when her mother resumed conversation with the golem. Rapunzel returned to her room upstairs, where she flopped down on the bed, exhausted.
She stared up at the ceiling, painted with tableaus from her favorite stories. When she first returned to the tower, her childhood home had felt oppressive and claustrophobic. But now, things were different. Rapunzel’s easel was out again, and half-finished paintings were strewn across the room. Dame Gothel was no longer barging in each morning, tidying up. It must’ve been a week now since her mother had even set foot in Rapunzel’s bedroom.
It was all due to the golem, of course. He obeyed Dame Gothel’s every wish, and remained her constant companion. She never tired of talking with him, because she only wanted someone to listen. Rapunzel had learned long ago that her own opinion was unwelcome, no matter how much Dame Gothel asked to hear it. There was only one right answer, and that was to agree.
Rapunzel moved to her desk and pulled open the top drawer. She reached deep inside, and flipped a latch. She carefully removed a stack of letters, written on thick, creamy parchment and folded into neat rectangles. She turned one over, running her hand over the royal seal, embossed in wax. It was useless to pore over it again, but now she wondered it if was time to give them up.
The fire was roaring downstairs; it would only take a moment to turn the letters to ashes. The prince would soon be married – to a princess who deserved him. Rapunzel had never met Princess Amalia, but everyone at the palace had spoken so highly of her. She would make a wonderful queen, and the marriage would unite the kingdoms.
Rapunzel moved toward the door, letters in hand. It would be better for everyone if she burned them, and moved on with her life. And yet something clenched in her heart, giving her pause. Perhaps it wouldn’t hurt to hang onto them just a little longer. They were keepsakes from royalty. Maybe someday she’d need them as proof to show her own children, who would otherwise accuse her of making up fanciful stories.
Rapunzel replaced the letters in the drawer and shut it tight. Her eyes fell on a nearby painting, nearly complete. There were still a few more highlights to add, and she had considered adding some clouds above the sheep in the corner. It was by no means a masterpiece, but it was competent. Maybe if she kept at this, she could sell her paintings someday.
Perhaps it was a blessing that she had returned to the tower. This year’s festival had been their best yet, with record sales that had helped them afford the golem. Now that her mother had a steadfast companion, Rapunzel was free to pursue her own whims, and start her own life. It was time that she moved on, and left her royal dreams in the past. Rapunzel didn’t need the love of a prince to be happy; she had everything she already needed right here, at home.
David’s Letters, Received December 1
August 20
I can’t believe it’s almost been a month since we started the PCT. Washington was really beautiful, when it wasn’t raining or covered in fog. We saw a bear (from a distance) and we dealt with some snow (which wasn’t as bad as I thought). There were some incredible views, especially in the mountains, and we had the place mostly to ourselves. It’s nice to be out here, and leave all the stress of work behind.
We got through the Cascade Locks a couple of days ago, bringing us into Oregon. Today we made it to Timberline Lodge, on Mt. Hood. We heard that the lodge had one of the best breakfasts on the trail, but we missed it by an hour. So we’ve been here for most of the afternoon, just eating and talking with other hikers.
A day hiker at the lodge asked me how it felt to be a long-distance backpacker. I don’t really feel any different. I’m a little stronger but there’s no way I’ll catch up to Mike, who looks like he was built for this. A couple of guys back at Snoqualmie found out that we like Lord of the Rings, and gave us our trail names. Mike is Bilbo, because of his stocky build and snack habits, and I’m Smeagol, since I’m a pescatarian. It would’ve been nice to be
Aragorn or Samwise, but at least we’re better off than Barfbag and Gangrene, who we met about 300 miles back.
We’ve got 556 miles down, 2094 to go. There’s a flat stretch coming up so Mike and I are going to try for at least 40 miles tomorrow. Mike thinks we can get 50, but the best I’ve done is a 34.8, so we’ll see how that goes.
September 4
We made it to Crater Lake today, and I’m exhausted. We had a 26-mile water carry (which turned out to only be 13, thankfully) but our packs were still pretty heavy because of all the extra water. It’s been really hot, and I’m pretty sure we reeked when we stumbled into Mazama Village. It’d been 330 miles since our last shower and laundry stop, and you could see the salt on our shirts. Pretty nasty.
It’s unreal out here. The lake is so blue, and we’ve had some nice mountain views recently. But lakes mean more mosquitoes. Between the bugs and the heat, I would probably be pretty miserable if it wasn’t for Mike. We get to laughing at the dumbest things, and his terrible puns are starting to grow on me.
The trails have been busier lately. We’re passing at least 50 northbounders a day. There has been some talk of wildfires, but hopefully we’ll miss fire season if we can get in a few more 30-mile days.
Mom's Perfect Boyfriend Page 13
