On Monday mornings, the Glamazon and I enjoy a sit down over our morning coffee to swap summaries of our respective weekends. My weekends are usually pedestrian, you know, a concert, a walk in the park to look at leaves changing, some creative cooking, maybe a baseball game on TV. As I recount the details of my weekend activities, she will nod in polite acknowledgment. My speaking first is really a formality. We convene essentially to talk about the Glamazon's weekend which centers around her complicated love life.

Now to preface the dialogue we had today, some background on the Glamazon and her current relationship. The Glamazon is a very girlish kind of woman. She is 50, yet she has the countenance and femininity of a young woman. She's very ladylike and rather old fashioned in her views on men. She would never call a man or ask a man out for a date (which is a completely alien concept to me. I've never been passive about that kind of thing in my life). Growing up, she was always the prototype good Jewish girl. She got good grades in school, was conscientious in her work, strives to please her mother--she does all the right things. She doesn't swear and admittedly, has never smoked a cigarette or taken drugs. She doesn't even know what a bong hit is.

She married young, but her marriage broke up a few years later. Since her divorce 20 odd years ago, she fell into a pattern of dating bad boys. In the many years I've known her, she's moved from one bad boy relationship to another, resulting in tumultuous and unsatisfying unions. Through all of these relationships, I have leveled armchair psychology at her suggesting why she chooses men who are bad for her. The answer is obvious: She's been the perfect girl her entire life and by selecting inappropriate and dangerous men, she's acting out (badness by extension without actually being personally accountable). She always nods in agreement with this theory, but yet she returns to her bad boys.

Her current relationship has endured for three years. He's a charming, handsome and sophisticated man, but he's apparently also a pathological liar. She's forever catching him in his fabrications and the inevitable confrontation is followed by fights, resolution, rinse and repeat. Like many women, she thinks she can change him, so she stays with him in her attempts to reform him. And every Monday when we meet for our coffee, she relates what wrong this man inflicted on her over the previous weekend. I daresay, it's becoming sport.

Today, we had our usual conversation over coffee, focusing on her distrust of him. Today's exchange struck me so much, well you know I just had to write it down. This is a faithful recounting:

Glamazon: He faked sex last week.
Me: Umm...how is that possible?
G: Well, you know, he didn't..you know. (hands gesturing wildly in little circles). Me: What? It's pretty hard to fake sex if a man can't get it up.
G: Oh, I don't like that kind of talk. That's not what I meant.
Me: YOU brought it up. How does a man fake sex?
G: Well, he..you know...could..do it, but he didn't...
Me: YES???!!!!
G: Well, you know...finish..
Me: You mean he didn't come?
G: Oh, please. Well, if you put it that way.
Me: I am putting it that way. How do you know?
G: (nervous sigh) Well, you can tell. He wanted me to think he did. He's a liar.
Me: How can you tell a man is faking an orgasm? I mean, the outcome is pretty obvious, no?
G: (takes a big sip of coffee)
Me: Did he give you the impression he was coming? Did he put on the whole show?
G: (ambivalent nod)
Me: So how can you tell he was faking it? Can he tell when you're faking it? Do you fake it?
G: We're not talking about that. We're talking about him.
Me: So, he pretended to come but you thought he didn't?
G: Yes.
Me: I guess it wasn't a convincing performance? Did you call him on it?
G: (gets up) I need more coffee.

It is the highlight of any Monday.