Deliriously Happy (6 page)

The motion to adopt Dick's language carried unanimously, and we collected more change for the jukebox.

We ordered another round, and conversation turned naturally to the rest of Leann: her quirky perky nose, her funny sunny smile, the perfect curve of her neck, her soft shoulders, and so on, until petty jealousies precluded further discussion.

Soon thereafter, we took a break to order more refreshments, and then it was time to welcome new members. A stubby and not particularly attractive man, who had been spotted with Leann as recently as mid-October, stood up in the back of the room.

“My name is Harry,” he said, “and I love Leann.”

Harry then related his long, sad tale, the details of which we are all too familiar, ending with that same old refrain.

“She met this guy,” he said. “She says she's deliriously happy.”

“Deliriously happy, eh?” Wolfgang said slowly, staring into his beer. “He's
doomed
.”

Those of us who could still laugh did so.

“Really?” Harry said, cheering considerably. “So you think there's a chance I can win her back?”

This question precipitated rancorous debate, leading to the inevitable threats of violence and ceasing only when Quentin moved we change the name of our group from Lovers of Leann to Victims of Leann. The motion was soundly defeated, and we voted to adjourn.

Elmo closed the meeting by singing “Oh, Leann,” including a new verse that had recently come to him in a dream:

Oh, Leann
,

I love you
,

Love you still
,

I love you
,

I love you
,

I love you still
,

I always will
.

LEANN ALERT…

My special friend Jane, who has been so supportive during this difficult time, has suggested there is a need for a group addressing the concerns of the lovers of the Lovers of Leann. Anybody who knows somebody who might be interested in such a group should have them write to Leann Anon at this address.

THIS WEEK'S LEANN CHALLENGE…

Leann is what she eats, but how well do you know what she eats? Everybody knows Leann likes horseradish on her hamburgers, but how many of you know what
kind
of horseradish? (Here's a hint: She received a case of it last Christmas.)

The answer to last week's challenge: From left to right.

LEANN'S MAILBAG…

The mail ran heavy this week with entries to the “Candid Leann” photo contest, and it's obvious I need to remind everyone that the rules clearly stipulate that Leann must be the only person shown in the photograph.

In consideration of those who may wish to resubmit, I've decided to extend the deadline two weeks, until Dec. 10. And remember, entries cannot be returned.

One of our far-flung correspondents, Miles, writes from New Orleans, “I'm going to be in town in the near future, and I was hoping to finally meet this Leann I've heard so much about. Do you have her phone number or an address where I can write her directly?”

No need for that, Miles. Just send your correspondence to Leann in care of this newsletter, and I'll make sure she gets it.

And finally, Reggie, of Oak Lawn, Ill., writes in and asks:

“Larry, isn't it time you got on with your life? It's been nearly two years [
sic
] since Leann broke up with you [
sic
], and I hate to be the one to tell you, pal, but it's over. O-V-E-R [
sic
].

“But listen,” Reggie continues, “there are a lot of other chicks in the sea, my friend, and they're yours for the picking. Go for it!”

Well, Reggie, I don't know quite how to answer that. It's difficult to determine exactly what it is you're driving at, since I'm afraid I do not share your bitter perspective, or your particular gift for playground aphorisms. So please understand when I suggest this: You know nothing about love.

But thanks for the letter, Reg. Your “Larry Loves Leann” T-shirt is in the mail.

If this thing is going to work, and I for one am pulling for it, things are going to have to be different. Not different than they have been for us, certainly, because at the very least I hope we can agree that you and I are not yet an
us
(that being my sincere goal), but different than the way things have been for me, and I suspect have also been for you.

We're not kids anymore, so let's be adults about this. The countless past couplings (and perhaps I am getting ahead of myself here, but I believe they should remain countless) that propel you and me into each other's arms have taught us both, individually, that love, alas, does not conquer all, and that for these things to work, there have to be rules.

My Apartment

As we walk around my apartment, please note:

1.   This is my apartment.

2.   As the result of years of painstaking trial and error, the television, stereo, thermostat, refrigerator, toaster, and furniture in this apartment are all set at their optimal levels in every regard. Any attempt to adjust any appliance or object in my apartment will only

a.   result in them having to be reset, and

b.   introduce passive-aggressiveness into the relationship, which, as any book on the subject will tell you, is bad.

3.   In the closet here,
and this is very important
, are my clothes. No clothes that are not these clothes, or which do not hew very closely to these clothes in matters of style or substance, will ever become my clothes.
They may

a.   reside in this closet for a while, leading to the impression that they are actively participating in my wardrobe, but

b.   in fact, will be there
for display purposes only;
and

c.   all non-me apparel, regardless of its source, will eventually end up in this closet way over here, where, if you see anything you like, help yourself.

4.   I have achieved a satisfying equilibrium between my desire for order and the seductive lure of chaos. Please do not upset it. (See 2.b, above.)

5.   I cannot accept responsibility for items of clothing or other personal objects left in the apartment, nor can I vouch for the provenance of any vesture or garniture you discover that proves to be neither yours nor mine.

6.   My lease forbids me from making an extra set of keys.

Me

Generally, there is only one rule about me: I am what I am. But over the years, a few areas concerning me have cropped up often enough that I feel the need to address them specifically
.

1.   I have worn my hair long, short, left, right, straight back, and spiked. The particular style you see now is, unfortunately, the only one that works. Previous hair experiments by otherwise well-meaning individuals have ended in tears.

2.   I am ten pounds overweight. When I raise this issue, typically in the mornings or just before dessert, you should

a.   be aware that
there is no correct response
, and

b.   quietly go about your business.

3.   Do not touch me here, here, and especially
here
, even in jest.

4.   I have a medical condition that I may invoke from time to time to explain certain moods or behaviors. Do not be alarmed, as this condition

a.   is not fatal, in the medical sense;

b.   cannot be transmitted through sexual contact; and

c.   cannot be transmitted through oral sex.

You

Having insisted that I am what I am, it would be hypocritical of me to not let you be you. However, experience has taught me that you may, at some point, decide not to be you anymore. Should you anticipate such a transformation, I ask that you keep in mind:

1.   Your hair is perfect. There is no need for you to ever do anything interesting to it.

2.   However it is that you smell that way, continue to do so. Sudden shifts in the olfactory landscape disconcert me.

3.   If I should come to love you (See Us: 3.a, below), I will of course love you at any size. Yet I cannot love and respect someone who, by all appearances, does not love and respect herself.
Accordingly
,

a.   Do you really want to eat that?

4.   All of the above notwithstanding, I do not wish to discourage you from pursuing cosmetic surgery if it would somehow bolster your self-esteem, and would be happy to support you, in a strictly advisory capacity. (Brochures attached.)

Us

Someday very soon (here's hoping!) you and I will be an
us.
We will be a much better us, I believe, if we adhere to two simple maxims: we are what we are, and
que será, será.
Regrettably, repeated inquiries on particular us-related topics in the past have prompted me to codify this general philosophy into a few, for the want of a better word, edicts
.

1.   Even as an us, it is important that you and I remain you and me. This is particularly important with respect to our respective domiciles (See My Apartment); I suggest, therefore, that you and I endeavor to maintain the roles of
host
and
visitor
in each other's residence at all times, even while presenting an
us
persona to the public. In other words,

a.   the host shall be responsible for maintaining an adequate supply of beverages and snacks in accordance with known preferences of the visitor, such beverages and snacks to be
offered
and
served
by the host in the traditional manner;

b.   in order to prevent a de facto living-together situation,

i.   the visitor shall not stay overnight in the host's residence more than three (3) days in a row, nor more than four (4) days in any one seven-day period, barring an emergency at the visitor's residence, including but not limited to: fire, painters, plumbers, an especially heinous crime within a two-block area, or mice, in which case the maximum stay shall be extended to not more than six (6) days;

ii.  combined overnight visits in either residence shall not exceed five (5) in any one week, nor fifteen (15) in any calendar month; and,

iii. at the end of an evening in which an overnight stay is anticipated, that evening's prospective visitor shall not suggest to the prospective host that they go “home” nor use a similar locution.

c.   In the event that a misunderstanding, altercation, or mood makes an anticipated overnight stay suddenly ill-advised,

i.   the visitor, and not the host, will implicitly acknowledge this fact by announcing, “Well, I've got to be going,” in a cheerful, non-recriminating manner, while

ii.  at no time will the host question the visitor's motivation for leaving, nor use force to prevent his exit, or to hasten it.

2.   Intimacy will become all but inevitable over time; however, please note:

a.   it should not be confused with love, and

b.   may involve the release of emotional, historical, or medical information which is private and privileged, and should not be divulged

i.   to “best” friends over lunch, or

ii.  during family or police interrogations, or

iii. before gatherings in bars or at parties, even if said information is presented in a jocular fashion which “nobody took seriously.”

3.   Love is a funny, unpredictable thing, and as such follows a timetable all its own. If past experience is any guide, declarations as such are meaningless anyway. But the futility of love in a loveless world notwithstanding,

a.   should I come to love you (keep those fingers crossed), you will be informed

i.   first in writing, most likely in the closing of a letter or card, or perhaps on a balloon, and then,

ii.  orally, at some later date,

iii. both these conditions being necessary to constitute a lasting and abiding love.

b.   Should you come to love me before I am able to make a co-declaration of same, you should