Another shot?

Don't mind if I do? Thanks.

What are you doing here? I thought you were supposed to be out with Betty.

No, man, I've had enough of that drama.

I don't know how you stood it for so long.

What is it with the opposite sex? They all start these great women and somehow become batshit crazy.

They're not all that bad.

Really? I feel like I am researching personality disorders. 

Come on, man.

No, really. It's like I'm playing Pokemon Go and trying to collect as many disorders as possible, attempting to earn a power-up.

It's not like I can tell you you're wrong—two more.

Exactly. Betty was a hypochondriac. Everything was a precursor to something else. She got a cut on her finger, and she had blood poisoning. She fainted, and it was a sign of cancer because her great-great aunt died from it.  

What about Wendy?

Wendy?

She was hot.

And boy, did she know it. Classic narcissists. I was fighting men off every time I turned my head. She had to be the center of every conversation. Capture all the men's attention, then drop them like rotten meat. My knee still hurts when it rains.

You know who I don't miss?

Who?

Natalie.

My god, Natalie. Class one clinger that one. Obsessive. 

She was always messing with my buzz. When I got a good head high, she would needle me with questions about whether you two were okay and what she had done wrong or could do better. It was every time. I had to light a doobie after the doobie to even begin to get back to the right level of zen.

Tell me about it. Every detail had to be perfect. She never threw anything away and gave me shit for keeping my Batman action figures. 

Is that what you call them?

It is. Move on—another round.

Okay. So we've got hypochondriac, narcissist, and obsessive. Oh, who could forget about Psychopath Patty? 

Not me. The woman still haunts my dreams. The number of lies she told at one time was fantastic. I don't know how she kept them all straight.

I like to think with a filefax.

Seriously.

It's pretty efficient. I'm just saying. 

If I think about it, Jill wasn't too bad. 

Which one was Jill?

The Bruenett that never wanted to go anywhere.

Oh yeah, antisocial. You can go ahead and check that one off your list. 

We might not have gotten out much, but we did spend a lot of time in the bedroom. 

And what was wrong with that?

I got bored. 

Didn't you also date her cousin, Amy?

Yup. We didn't go out either but for different reasons.

What were those?

She lacked energy; I was always trying to lift her out of her deep, dark depression. 

Next.

Thinking about it, I started collecting disordered women long before adulthood. Remember Penny.

Oh, who could forget Penny? She was something else. We need some whisky here.

Anxity-ridden, restless, tense, and so damn irritable. 

I thought the same thing when I dated her the year after.

You dated Penny?

Yeah, what can I say? She was one of the only girls who would let us go up and under. 

Up and under. 

Speaking of old, what is this music?

Who knows nowadays?

Hey, Matt, a pretty little redhead at the end of the bar is giving you the eye.

So she is. Maybe I should say hello.

Why not? This one might be schizophrenic. 

If only I were that lucky, Paul. If only I were that lucky.