Jack and Jill
Being happily married for 23 years now, my correspondent (let's call him Jack) writes to say that when he woke up this morning next to his wife, he couldn't help smiling as he watched her sleep. She was still the most beautiful thing he'd laid eyes on.
And his daughter, far from home at university, was a source of pride and joy and filled him with an almost overpowering sense of love (which admittedly he tried to control, since he is a quiet, reserved, type of fellow and not much given to "theatrics"). He's sure she is the smartest and most well-behaved young woman on campus.
Of course there had been ups-and-downs in their relationships, but he was probably to blame for those in most part, he writes.
Another correspondent (let's call her Jill) says that her partner of almost nine years is her "alpha and omega". She lives about 12km from him in a charming security complex, while his home is one of the older houses in an established suburb. They are LATs – "living-apart-together"s – two folk in a committed intimate relationship, strongly individualistic and with differing decor senses.
Wouldn't it be weird if Jack came to visit and tried to convince me that I, too, must find his wife the most beautiful creature on Earth? Or if Jill insisted that my life, too, should revolve around her significant-other? What if Jack wanted to convince me that his daughter should become the apple of my eye?
Wouldn't it be weird if, one Friday evening, Jack pops in for a quick visit and leaves behind a glossy pamphlet extolling the virtues of his wife? Imagine he becomes insistent. Very insistent. Even threatening. Or worse.
At what point, and how, do I tell Jack to fuck off?
nothing more to see. please move along.