One Reason Why Men Always Leave Me

So me and Benj are having "us" time in the living room, which means he's sitting in a red armchair doing guitar scales and I'm Adranting on the couch across the way.

Benj stops playing. He looks up and goes, "Listen to this scale. Does it sound like a legitimate guitar lesson?"

"Sure," I say.

"It's hard. These are so basic. I can hardly do them anymore."

"Always good to go back to basics." (I am scanning a press release for agency info. I am wondering why Dentsu is so twisted. I am debating if I should cross-reference goatse. You can never have enough goatse.)

"You know ... my technique was never quite right. I could never play like Paco."

"Practice makes..." I start to say, but then he interrupts by doing something unexpected.

I look up and he's WALKING TOWARD ME. With his guitar.

"I want to show you what I mean," he persists. "What are you doing?"

"Nothing. Well ... working. But I'm listening."

He kneels down and starts to strum. I can't help it -- I cast a fast split-second glance back at my screen and he catches me in action.

"You're not paying attention. What are you doing?" He leans in. "What IS that?"

Long pause. Nothing for it but to explain.

"I'm screenshotting rhino shit."

He doesn't even ask why. Instead he gives me an elongated I-hate-what-you-do-for-a-living stare and goes back to his big red chair.