What We Talk about When We Talk about Love

Once, our friend Crystal, having bemusedly listened to a conversation between my husband Curtis and me, said, "You all have the funniest conversations."

She meant this in a variety of ways. "Funny," as it refers to the conversation topic."Funny," as in humorous. "Funny," as in strangely syntaxed. "Funny," as in absurdly arranged. "Funny," as in hyperbolically and insensibly argued.

And she wasn't the first to say this.

Once, after an especially odd, and terribly enjoyable, conversation, I said to Curtis, "What do you think other people talk about?"

He paused and said, "I don't know. I really don't."

We have serious conversations, about religion and politics.

We have sweet conversations, about our chinchillas, and corgis, and pomeranians, and other cute things.

We have funny conversations, about pop culture.

We have sad conversations, about things that hurt us, both personal and universal.

I don't know that other people don't talk about the things we talk about. Maybe everyone does, and I just don't know it.

Either way, when our friend said, utterly unprompted, that we had funny conversations, I started sharing them on Facebook.

Then other friends began to comment on our conversations, and two of our friends, Erica and Kim, suggested I start a blog featuring our exchanges. I'm going to start with recent conversations, and work backward. I'll also be interspersing conversations I have with friends.

So here we go.

On seeing a compelling music video . . .

Curtis: Who's ripping off Duran Duran?

Sally: I don't know. I don't know who that is. I never know who anyone is anymore.

C: Is it Duran Duran?

S: . . . No. No, I don't think so.

[pause]

S: Wait, no, there's a sign. It's Duran Duran. You're right. But who's the fat guy singing?

C: That's Simon Le Bon.

S: Oh. Oh God.