I love you.
I love you, too.
I love the way you agree with me, without question.
Yes.
I love you.
I love your hair, Sarah.
Thank you.
I love how it waves and bobs and curls, and I love how my fingers can run through it.
I use a moisturizing shampoo.
I love that you unabashedly admit that your beauty is not totally natural.
I pluck my eyebrows regularly.
I love you.
I love you more. Do you ever wonder if your love for me will fade?
No.
Oh, but it will, Brett.
No.
No, it will. One day, you’ll get Alzheimer’s disease. You’ll get Alzheimer’s disease and slowly you’ll forget what my face looks like. And your love will fade.
No.
Brett.
No. No, I will defeat Alzheimer’s disease. I will find a cure. I will cure my Alzheimer’s disease before it begins to fade my love. I will apply the chemistry degree I got in college.
I love how you are passionate about science.
I’ll study enzymes all night.
Cruel, cold science. But it’s warm and cuddly coming from your mouth.
Electrolysis gels on mitochondrial DNA…for you, my love.
I… love you.
And I you.
And yet.
Yes, and yet.
And yet.
(sigh)
(sigh)
I wish you didn’t have that boyfriend still.
I do, too, but it’s not for us to say.
I wish, after you met him and went out with him in college, and then moved here to New York with him, I wish then you would’ve parted ways, stayed friends perhaps, but parted ways romantically.
I love that you look out for the well-being of your rival.
I would bet a talented guy like him would find a new love soon.
You hold him to your heart, though he is the one that denies that same organ it’s God-given right to love.
Girls love film students.
I don’t love film students. I love you.
And yet.
And yet.
And yet you go out with a film student, and not I, the one you love.
(sigh)
Break up with him.
…
No, really.
It’s complicated.
But I love you.
It’s really complicated.
What exists that should complicate love’s will? What object dares become an obstacle in the way of love’s unstoppable race through irreversible time?
Donald sold a script.
That one about the troubled scientist?
Yes.
Who successfully creates a simple and elegant solution to all the Universe’s problems?
Yes.
And then we watch as he struggles with the burden of this great knowledge?
Yes.
And he gets that girl?
Yes. I love you.
The scientist gets the girl.
In the movie.
In real life, the artist gets the girl.
The successful artist.
Yes.
Who was in the right place at the right time.
…
…
I…am, in time, losing my will to cure Alzheimer’s disease.
Perhaps the disease is setting in, my love!
No.
No?
No. I just think you’re making a terrible, albeit it rational, decision. And I no longer want to lead myself on.
…
I think you should go. I’m going to call my friends and whine to them about you. Then I will drink. Then I will allow myself to kiss a girl I don’t really want to kiss. I will stop calling you or responding to your emails.
And I’ll marry Donald?
I’d imagine.
What a simple and elegant solution to all our problems.
Yes.
I love you.
…
I love you.
…
…
I can’t love you.