Tuesday, November 09, 2010


I know you, I know you almost as well as you know yourself. I know your habits, you made the mistake of telling me your hopes and dreams, and I have them locked away in my mind, saving them for a 'rainy day.' I know your favourite colour, I know your favourite food. I know that you don't like green peppers, and that you think sushi is disgusting. I know where you've 'buried the bodies,' and I know what you're afraid of. I know the songs that you listen to the most on itunes, and the songs that make you cry. I even turned you on to a few of those songs. I know where you bank, where you buy your shoes, and where you buy your fruit. I know you like honey crisp apples, and not granny smith apples. I know your bra size, your shoe size, and your dress size. I know what length of pants you wear, and what brand of soap you use. I know that you're right handed, and in what country your grandparents where born. I know all of this, and I haven't had to google you, hire a private investigator, or go out of my way to collect any of this information.

I know what languages you speak, and that you are bad at math. I know your mother's maiden name, and if I tried hard enough (but I won't because its creepy) I could probably break your password(s). I know your natural hair colour (even if you don't), and I know the author you read the most, and the one you want to be like (and I know they aren't the same writer). I know where you keep the bottle of vodka that you sometimes need a nip of 'just to get through the day.' I know your birthday, your anniversary (of a lot of things), and the name of the first boy, and girl you kissed. I know what kind of car you drive, and I know how many times you've had surgery. I could probably continue for another twenty pages, but I think you get the point.

I know all of these things, because you've told them to me. Each and every one of these little nuggets you gave to me like an oyster opening wide for the pearl diver that is intent upon removing its treasure. And they are treasures, you know, each of these little tidbits that I have gleaned from you, about you are priceless bit of information. Information that helps me 'know' you, know how you are, how you were, and how you are going to be. That's right, I can predict you, if you were a racehorse, and I could bet on you, I would never have to work again. I can predict your behaviour with amazing clarity, regularity, and accuracy. I say this only because it is true, I am not bragging nor am I demeaning you in any way. I think it is fantastic that I know what you are going to say before you say it, and not for the world would I want you to hold back from saying it.

In the course of our time together you've told me all of these things, and more. While we were inhabiting smoky bars, or walking down crowded city streets, while we were passing the time on a subway ride in Tirana, while boarding a plane in Rome, as we were being mugged in Budapest, or when we were lost in Paris. During all of these times, and more, your hopes, dreams, and fears poured out of you like water out of a punctured gallon jug, and all the while I was there taking them all in, and making a mental checklist that I hoped I would never have to use against you.

I also know you hate suspense, and surprises, and you like to be 'the smartest person in the room.' I know you are way too smart for your own good, and more clever than you let on. I know you think that there is a 'twist in this tale,' and that at some point the tone of this epic is going to change for the worse. I know you can't stand not knowing things, and it is one of your most endearing qualities (up to a certain point). However, I know you, I know you too well, and I know that what will make you the maddest (and therefore, make me the happiest) is letting you ponder all of these things I know about you, and as you lie there in your bed alone, if you are alone, wonder what I am going to do with all of this awful, awful knowledge. For rest assured, I am sitting somewhere, somewhere we both know, somewhere far, far away from you, or any of your numerous minions that are bent upon my destruction. Some safe place from where I can, with impunity, tell you all of these things I know.