Read Online Things My Girlfriend and I Have Argued About by Mil Millington - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Mil Millington
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write, 'Surprise!' She gets it on Valentine's Day and says, 'Thank you,' to me, through gritted teeth. (She gets me one too, by the way – it reads, "I'm not interested in a nice, normal relationship… I like ours better.")
Odysseus and Penelope? Pah – lightweights.
82
So, the thing was, I'd cut this picture of PJ Harvey out of a magazine (yes, the 'Lick My Legs' one,
of course
the 'Lick My Legs' one) and I was framing it to put on my wall here. 'Who's that?' asked First Born.
'That,' I replied, 'is PJ Harvey.'
'Who's PJ Harvey?' he said. (Bless.)
'She's a singer and a songwriter,' I explained. Adding, as I'm sure most people would, 'I used to go out with her. You know – years before Mama and I met.'
Now, you'll never guess what happened next. Incredibly, Margret goes through the roof. No, I'm not kidding – she goes through the roof and starts ranting that I shouldn't say I used to go out with PJ Harvey. Can you believe that? I mean, for one thing, I don't tell her that
she
can't watch gardening shows on the TV or go swimming or whatever, so how come
I
can't tell people that I used to go out with PJ Harvey? There has to be give and take in a relationship, right? The main issue, though, is why on earth she should object in the first place. Surely, if anyone is well placed to take issue with my going around saying that I used to go out with PJ Harvey, then who is that person? Damn right. It's PJ Harvey. And her record company, maybe. Also, possibly her legal representatives have good grounds to intervene, perhaps in a manner that leads, ultimately, to some kind of court order against me. So, yes, all those people seem to be perfectly justified in stepping in – but
my girlfriend
? God – it's getting so I can't do
anything
.
83
Now, this is slightly scary and unsettling. I know I'm inclined to say that quite a lot, but what am I supposed to do about it? This
is
slightly scary and unsettling. You're going to get to the end of this and say, 'Ooo – that's slightly scary and unsettling, Mil,' that's just the simple fact of the matter. OK?
The other evening we had some friends round. We were all sitting in the living room and I was recounting something Margret had done a couple of days previously. Unfortunately, I can't remember what this thing was now, but I do recall it had happened in the car. So, given Margret and I stepping into a car together immediately invalidates our insurance (a Zen branch of homologous algebra states: Mil + Margret + Car = Small Child + Hammer + Land Mine), it could have been pretty much anything up to and including some kind of western movie-style showdown where – instead of being atop a train – Margret and I scrambled for control of a Colt .45 on the roof of our Vauxhall Corsa, as it careered, driverless, down the A5. As I say, I can't remember. Anyway, whatever it was, it was certainly (a) utterly outrageous and (b) utterly down to Margret. This is borne out by the look of numb, stunned disbelief that trembled on our friends' faces when I'd finished telling them the story. One of them turned to Margret and, incredulous, gasped, 'Did you really do that?'
'Yeah,' Margret laughed back, with a shy, 'you know how it is' shrug. Then she became pensive and her nose twisted a little in thought. 'But,' she continued, half to herself, 'I don't know if I'd have done it in real life.'
"
In real life
"?
What?
WHAT
?
You're going 'Ooo – that's slightly scary and unsettling, Mil' now, aren't you?
84
A question I get asked a lot is… Um, actually, a question I get asked a lot is one I get asked by those Litigations R Us-style firms – the ones that encourage you to sue everyone you've ever met so they can have a share of the settlement. Every single time I walk through town one of their salespeople will leap out in front of me:
'Hello. I'm trawling for business on behalf of a parasitic company that happily feeds the special and delightful sense of greedy, self-centred
Odysseus and Penelope? Pah – lightweights.
82
So, the thing was, I'd cut this picture of PJ Harvey out of a magazine (yes, the 'Lick My Legs' one,
of course
the 'Lick My Legs' one) and I was framing it to put on my wall here. 'Who's that?' asked First Born.
'That,' I replied, 'is PJ Harvey.'
'Who's PJ Harvey?' he said. (Bless.)
'She's a singer and a songwriter,' I explained. Adding, as I'm sure most people would, 'I used to go out with her. You know – years before Mama and I met.'
Now, you'll never guess what happened next. Incredibly, Margret goes through the roof. No, I'm not kidding – she goes through the roof and starts ranting that I shouldn't say I used to go out with PJ Harvey. Can you believe that? I mean, for one thing, I don't tell her that
she
can't watch gardening shows on the TV or go swimming or whatever, so how come
I
can't tell people that I used to go out with PJ Harvey? There has to be give and take in a relationship, right? The main issue, though, is why on earth she should object in the first place. Surely, if anyone is well placed to take issue with my going around saying that I used to go out with PJ Harvey, then who is that person? Damn right. It's PJ Harvey. And her record company, maybe. Also, possibly her legal representatives have good grounds to intervene, perhaps in a manner that leads, ultimately, to some kind of court order against me. So, yes, all those people seem to be perfectly justified in stepping in – but
my girlfriend
? God – it's getting so I can't do
anything
.
83
Now, this is slightly scary and unsettling. I know I'm inclined to say that quite a lot, but what am I supposed to do about it? This
is
slightly scary and unsettling. You're going to get to the end of this and say, 'Ooo – that's slightly scary and unsettling, Mil,' that's just the simple fact of the matter. OK?
The other evening we had some friends round. We were all sitting in the living room and I was recounting something Margret had done a couple of days previously. Unfortunately, I can't remember what this thing was now, but I do recall it had happened in the car. So, given Margret and I stepping into a car together immediately invalidates our insurance (a Zen branch of homologous algebra states: Mil + Margret + Car = Small Child + Hammer + Land Mine), it could have been pretty much anything up to and including some kind of western movie-style showdown where – instead of being atop a train – Margret and I scrambled for control of a Colt .45 on the roof of our Vauxhall Corsa, as it careered, driverless, down the A5. As I say, I can't remember. Anyway, whatever it was, it was certainly (a) utterly outrageous and (b) utterly down to Margret. This is borne out by the look of numb, stunned disbelief that trembled on our friends' faces when I'd finished telling them the story. One of them turned to Margret and, incredulous, gasped, 'Did you really do that?'
'Yeah,' Margret laughed back, with a shy, 'you know how it is' shrug. Then she became pensive and her nose twisted a little in thought. 'But,' she continued, half to herself, 'I don't know if I'd have done it in real life.'
"
In real life
"?
What?
WHAT
?
You're going 'Ooo – that's slightly scary and unsettling, Mil' now, aren't you?
84
A question I get asked a lot is… Um, actually, a question I get asked a lot is one I get asked by those Litigations R Us-style firms – the ones that encourage you to sue everyone you've ever met so they can have a share of the settlement. Every single time I walk through town one of their salespeople will leap out in front of me:
'Hello. I'm trawling for business on behalf of a parasitic company that happily feeds the special and delightful sense of greedy, self-centred
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