I’m sitting across the table from my girl on date night. We’re having fun, but she’s distracted. Her eyes keep darting over my shoulder.
“What are you looking at?”
“That black fish!”
There is an aquarium behind me. A handful of colourful fish weave through the artificial world. They say fish are soothing.
“He keeps chasing the yellow fish around. He’s being a jerk.”
“Maybe they’re playing a game. How do you know it’s not fun?”
“See there he goes again. It’s not a game. Look at the yellow fish. He’s thinking, ‘Why won’t that guy leave me alone!’ ”
I feel obligated to point out that we are not characters in Finding Nemo. “I don’t think that fish is thinking anything.”
“He’s doing it again! What an asshole!”
I love that she thinks one fish is being mean to another fish, and is getting genuinely upset about it. I tell her so. Although let’s remember our priorities, it’s date night. So, I add, “Now quit worrying about the fucking fish and pay attention to me.”