Love Virtually Read Online Free PDF Page B

a single drop I drank either. Do you know what I mean?
    That’s when you start living at cross-purposes. When it comes to drinking, it’s got to be both of you or neither.
    As I said, it’s a real shame that I couldn’t take up your enticing offer yesterday evening. I’m afraid I got home far too late. Another time.
    Your online-drinking-buddy-to-be,
    Leo
    Twenty minutes later
    Re: Shame
    Home far too late? Leo, Leo, where have you been, gadding about in the night? Don’t tell me a Marlene successor has turned up. If that’s the case, you’re going to have to tell me all about her right now, so I can put you off. You see, all my instincts tell me that you shouldn’t be getting involved with anyone at the moment, you’re not ready for another relationship. And anyhow, you’ve got me. Your fantasy of me must come much closer to your concept of the ideal woman than someone you’ve met in a bar (for single snow-bearish professor types) with red plush seats at two in the morning, or however late it was. So from now on please stay at home, and from time to time we can drink a glass of wine together around midnight (yes, it can be white wine in your case). And then you’ll get tired and go to bed, leaving you rested the next day, ready to send more emails to Emmi Rothner, your imaginary goddess. Does that sound like a plan?
    Two hours later
    Re: Shame
    Dear Emmi,
    How wonderful to be able to experience the beginnings of another truly enchanting outburst of jealousy! That sounds rather Italian, I know, but I enjoyed it anyway. As for my relationships with women, why don’t we give them the same treatment as your husband, two children, and the six chipmunks. Here’s not the place! Here there’s just the two of us—for the two of us. We’ll stay in contact until one of us runs out of steam or loses the will. I don’t think it’ll be me.
    Enjoy this lovely spring day,
    Leo
    Ten minutes later
    Re: Shame
    I’ve just remembered—what’s happened to our recognition game? Don’t you want to do it anymore? Should I be worrying about your bleary-eyed plush bar squeeze? What about the day after tomorrow, Sunday, March 25, from 3 p.m. in Café Huber? It’ll be really busy. Let’s do it!
    Emmi
    Twenty minutes later
    Re: Shame
    Of course, dear Emmi. I look forward to picking you out. But I’ve already got this weekend planned. Tomorrow I’m off to Prague for three days—just “for pleasure,” so to speak. But how about indulging in our parlor game next Sunday?
    One minute later
    Re: Shame
    Prague? Who with?
    Two minutes later
    Re: Shame
    No, Emmi, just don’t.
    Thirty-five minutes later
    Re: Shame
    O.K., do what you like (or don’t like). But don’t come running to me afterward with your love problems! Prague is just perfect for love problems, especially at the end of March: everything’s gray, and at night you have anemic dumplings and dark beer in some pub that’s wood-paneled in the darkest shade of brown imaginable, watched over by an underemployed, depressive waiter whose reason for living stopped with Brezhnev’s state visit. It’s all over after that. Why don’t you go to Rome instead?
    It’s almost summer there. I’d fly to Rome with you.
    So our game will have to wait a while longer. On Monday I’m going skiing for a week. I don’t mind telling you who I’m going with, my trusted correspondent: with one husband and two children (but no chipmunks!). The neighbors are going to look after Wurlitzer. Wurlitzer is our overweight tomcat. He looks just like a jukebox, but he always plays the same tune. And he hates skiers, which is why he’s staying at home.
    Have a lovely evening.
    Emmi
    Five hours later
    Re: Shame
    Are you home yet, or are you still hanging out in that plush bar?
    Night-night,
    Emmi
    Four minutes later
    Re: Shame
    I’m back home. I’ve been