Alexander: I’m increasingly infatuated with a lumbersexual. He’s really into metaphysics and is a licensed massage therapist. Pseudo-profundity and deft hands are the only traits I require in a man at this particular moment.
lust
Two friends, on modern romance.
Nigel: I am not sure flaneurs or flaneuses would ever meet on Tinder.
Cecily: Don’t be so pretentious that you can’t be open to modern first meetings and classically romantic evolutions thereafter.
Two sisters, on the box office.
Cecily: I may be in love. I need your advice.
Delilah: Well, there are about six million romantic comedies you could consult that have more knowledge on the subject than I.
Cecily: Can you suggest one?
Delilah: That’s not really my scene. From my understanding of the genre, romantic comedies generally build up to a truth-telling climax wherein the man’s dreams are torn in twain, or a comical farce in which the man turns out to be gay. Or a neo-nazi.
Cecily: You’re thinking of opera. Or Broadway.
Delilah: The point is, it’s not your job to be psychologically tortured by love feelings. The story will be a hit at the box office either way.
thedailymails 