During a recent conversation Rob said to me, partly exasperated and partly amused, "You have this whole imaginary world inside your head." And I had to laugh because well, it's sorta true.

See, I tend to imagine all kinds of relationships and scandals and motivations involving the people I encounter. Like at a baseball game, I usually end up watching the people in the crowd as much or more than the game itself, and by the time we leave I will have created a backstory for everyone around us. It's the writer in me, I guess.

Also to blame is the fact that I happen to believe that I am particularly keen at observing people and thus am able to ascertain things that others can't. Since the plots that I envision about people are based on astute observations I've made, I often convince myself that these things are actually true. Over dinner I'll tell Rob my latest theory, like who is having an affair with whom and how it is SO obvious to me and how it completely explains why she did that one thing that just did not make sense to us for awhile. But now it totally does! Because hello, AFFAIR! Usually Rob thinks it is hogwash, but every now and then I present so many subtle yet compelling pieces of evidence that I am actually able to convince him that my theory is correct. Which, given his pragmatic nature, is a huge victory for me.

And sometimes when I've got a particularly convincing theory going, he'll get pretty into it. Like the time he came home from the grocery store all excited because he had run into the Affair Chick (who had just recently left her husband, in fact).

"Guess who I ran into?! Yeah, HER! And she was with some guy who was not her husband." His eyes gleamed with the excitement of the scandal.

"Nuh-UH! Dude, I TOLD you she was having an affair! Okay, so three things: Was she wearing her wedding ring, did she introduce him, and did she give you eye contact?"

"No, she didn't introduce him! It was awkward. But otherwise she acted normally. And I didn't notice if she was wearing her ring." Rookie.

"One cart or two?"

"One."

"What was in it? I mean, were they buying we-live-together stuff like milk, bread, and toilet paper? Or were they buying we're-going-to-a-party stuff like chips and soda? Was there wine? Condoms?"

Yeah, dude didn't think to check their cart. A hard-core detective he is not.

Of course, usually Rob thinks I'm full of shit, that I just have an overactive imagination. When I tell him that my previous minister is stalking me at the gym, waiting to corner me and force me to repent of my pagan ways, Rob just rolls his eyes. He refuses to believe that his entire family thinks I'm pregnant ever since they saw me wearing loose shirts two days in a row last week. (But they do! Oh, they DO!) He needs more evidence that my friend Sydney is actually a spy, although I think he'd really like for this to be true. And there have been several times throughout the years that I have tried to tell him that someone is suffering unrequited love for either him or me, but he will never be convinced of that.

Sometimes I get so carried away thinking about these things that, in my head, actual scenes play out between the people involved. Sorta like a play. Or, I guess, sorta like a sexual fantasy without the sexual element. I know, I'm completely fucked up. But, I am never bored.