Last night, amongst the detective work and the Chinese Food and the assembling the Robot Army (so they can help us with our detective work and bring us Chinese Food), Mr. Boy and I were at our respective computers, dabbling in a little online poker. I had just been knocked out (but in the money), but Mr. Boy was battling it out at his table. Go here to read his account. (No, really, go now. He tells it better than I would and it's his story anyway.)
Some SlackReaders may not know about Mr. Boy's...edginess around people of short stature. Heartwarming stories of the Christmas Midget aside, Little People + Mr. Boy = Big Problem.
As they went head to head, our first concern was dinner. Chinese Food was on its way, and he can't eat with a little person in the room.
What am I gonna do? he asked.
Turn off his picture?
That would be cheating.
As the chips exchanged hands the the insults flew, I wondered if this was some sort of Final Showdown, a Sign from the Universe. What if he lost? What would that be saying?
I'm not gonna lose, he told me.
I certainly hope not, I told him.
It's not that I wasn't supportive - I was. But if you're going to live your life by a certain ethos, you've got to be willing to die by that ethos as well. You can't be twice the size and half the man.
There were a few tense moments, but Mr. Boy crushed his competition. He can cross "beating a little person at poker" off his list. And I can marry him with a clear conscience.
(Two weeks.)
