When the dogs divide her, stoop to strategies, when it all comes down to dust

Trick looked up at the bay window. He raised the phone and dialed. No answer. He looked at the window again. He dialed again. Brystol answered. She asked him what he wanted. She sounded irritated. He asked if he could come up. She told him no. In his romcom fantasy, she had welcomed him with warmth and gusto. He sighed and trudged off.

In her romcom fantasy, he had ignored her no, burst through the door, and generally behaved in such ways that, if her friend Chessil had expressed the same scenario, she would have described as most resembling a creepy stalker. When she peered out the window, he was no longer there. This happened several more times, and always ended in disappointment.

Brystol's boyfriend Trock knew that she wasn't into him enough. That much was obvious. In his romcom fantsay, though, his persistence and unwavering devotion finally melted her cold, black heart, and she changed into the woman of his dreams. In her romcom fantasy, he effortlessly changed into an entirely different man. Trock lavished her with attentions and affections, directly in furtherance of his aims. For this reason, she disrespected him greatly. Brystol did not want someone to put her on a pedestal, nor did she want someone who wanted to spend all his time with her. What she wanted was something entirely different.

One day, when particularly irritated by Trock, she called Trick and invited him to dinner. She made clear that it was strictly platonic. He dropped everything, cancelled all his plans, made several sacrifices that could not be justified if he were to try to explain this to someone logically, and met her for dinner. In his romcom fantasy, things would not be strictly platonic. In her romcom fantasy, he would ignore the platonic bit and put the moves on her. Both were disappointed that night.

Life began to wear on Brystol. Trock continued to grate on her nerves. She was losing hope for all aspects of her life, and panic caused her to travel on false pretenses to go visit her ex-boyfriend Treck. Treck was probably not what you would call a ladies' man, but he had lots of women, and he treated them all like dirt. In her previous dealings with him, Brystol had been subjected to all manner of abuse, and though she complained about it and reciprocated, this was treatment with which she was very comfortable. In her romcom fantasy, their mutual mistreatment was indicative for their great love for one another, and Treck would someday forego all his other affairs and declare her to be his one and only. In his romcom fantasy, he bested the Sultan of Brunei in personal combat, somehow won his title, and satisfied himself with no fewer than ten concubines per day.

Still, Brystol's soul was not completely filled, and when she returned home, she positioned herself in three ways to provoke Trick. In her romcom fantasy, he would recognize her vulnerability, accommodate her whims, and fight her boyfriend for her. He did not recognize her vulnerability, nor did he understand that her callous airs of indifference masked the significance of her seemingly innocuous statements to him of late. In his romcom fantasy she would stop being such a bitch.

Shortly thereafter they both died of broken hearts, one after the other. Trock was devastated. He couldn't figure out what had happened. Then again, who can?