6. Well, it depends on how you look at it.
7. The mere fact that you’re asking that tells me more about you than I even cared to know. It reminds me of that time when we were out driving that summer after college and you said, “Let’s go down to the river,” and then we did, and I pulled the car up almost flush with the railing, and you took the book I was reading and pretended to ask me a question about it and then flung it into the water. I thought it would stay at the top of the river, bobbing—it’s paper and cardboard, right, maybe even with some trapped air—but it sank like a stone, and you said, “only hope floats,” and you grinned that evil grin, the one you had that time you were engaged to Jerry and I caught you out with another guy (and by the way you’re welcome for going along with your story that you were a grad student visiting from St. Louis), and then you opened up your backpack and showed me that you had a gun in there and that you could imagine a circumstance where you might have to one day use it.
11. Certainly not.
12. I don’t think so, not if you define love the way a sane person would define it, but if you defined it that way then there would be an decent chance that you were sane, and I think we both know that train sailed a long time ago. Who names their car? And even then, who names their car “Pitch Blue” and insists that the color is enough to cool it even though it’s manifestly about a hundred degrees in there? Not to mention that when I played you the Prisoners record, you told me you thought it sounded like the Strokes, which is an embarrassing thing to say, and not one of those embarrassing things that’s admirable because it is an illustration of honesty, but one of those embarrassing things that’s just plain cringe-worthy.
15. Oscar Wilde.
16. I really regret ever getting you pregnant.
NOTE: Questions available upon request.