Cecily: I wanted a toy unicorn. I had an inside joke about one with my lover Yves, and I wanted to give the unicorn to him for Christmas. I announced my desire to find one rather publicly. Jonathan loved me so much he haunted every shop in Paris on Christmas Eve to find me that unicorn. He didn’t know why I wanted it, just that he could give me something I wanted, and that he could make me smile.
He found that unicorn and bought it for me for Christmas. It showed up under my tree all glittering and shining via beautiful guilt-laced adoration. And now I have it. And it was always intended for Yves.
relationships
Charles, to Cecily.
Charles: You are like one of Ayn Rand’s protagonists: a self-interested person that must be unsentimental toward those that rely on you. They need you for their joy. You produce, they consume. Don’t forget that.
Carlo, on umbrellas.
Carlo: I am a thief of umbrellas. I give them to beautiful women who pass by the Café de Flore.
Two friends, on wives.
Karim: I’m flying back to Riyadh for a couple of weeks.
Cecily: Bring me a wife?… That may have come off as culturally conflationary, but I generally ask for wives when my friends travel.
Two friends, on being home for Christmas.
Cecily: How’s the family?
Alexander: I had lunch with my father. The first twenty minutes was spent awkwardly playing with condensation on the table in silence.
Two friends, on monogamy.
Cecily: I had a massive panic attack the other day because I haven’t dealt with monogamy in such a very long time.
Alexander: Maybe try and brainwash them just enough to start a polyamorous cult of mutually aware men who are in love with you?
Cecily: I did that over summer.
Raj, before Christmas dinner.
Raj: I couldn’t find some decent gin, so I got some dodgy cognac instead.
Two friends, over lunch.
Charles: Ever since I became a lawyer I’ve had a sense of entitlement over cross examining people.
Cecily: I cross examine everybody despite my status as a professional social butterfly.
Two friends, on relationships.
Cecily: I just agreed to a one hundred percent monogamous, committed relationship.
Christian: For the weekend?
Delilah, to Cecily.
Delilah: So, brother, I’ve been shook the fuck up. You must be Jesus, the devil, or some kind of prescient energy force that transcends the need for physical form but comes to humans in the form of a slightly manic, dry-witted succubus.
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