If You Love Me, You’ll Wear This Headlamp
It’s not weird, because I’ll be wearing one too.
It’s not a big deal. I’d like you to wear this powerful headlamp when we walk around the city at night. You say no one wears headlamps in our well-lit neighborhood, but that’s what makes it so special. We’ll be sharing a unique symbol of our love, which is as blisteringly bright as the thousand-lumen halogen bulbs strapped to our foreheads.
The best partnerships are based on compromise. Isn’t that what relationship counselors say? I wouldn’t know, because I have refused your requests to see one, but if they don’t, they should, because it’s true.
I don’t ask for much — only that we eat a strict ketogenic diet, wear hospital booties in the apartment, and spritz the place every hour with “Patchouli Parade” aromatherapy spray. And now this, a simple request to don a headlamp whenever we go outside at night.
You ask things of me, too. You didn’t like it when I practiced my craft — miming — at the dinner we had with your family last week. You said it frightened your grandmother when I put her inside an invisible box. You asked me not to do it again, and I agreed. See? Give and take. I’m a flexible person who’s willing to restrain my passion for miming. I’m just not flexible about this.
