the longest stretch

she wants to talk
about sex.
her favorite subject.
you cringe as you sit
down outside
the café and order
fried calamari, her
favorite seafood.
you think
of it as rubber gaskets
deep fried and wonder
why it isn't free.
so what is the longest
stretch of time
you've ever gone
without sex, she asks
you, dipping a rubber
band of calamari into
some red sauce.
the longest stretch of
time without any kind
of sex? yes, she
says, and I don't mean
alone. with another
person. you look around
to see if anyone
is listening. keep your
voice down, you whisper,
for god's sake,
there's a pack of nuns
sitting over there.
so, she says, smacking
her lips with another
bite. how long.
hmmm. you say, finger
to your chin, when I was
married there was this
one year where she was
always mad at me for
something, and we may
have gone six months
or so, but you tell
her, I've been in relationships
too that have fallen
apart and there is no
sex ever. ever? she says,
well, it's not really sex.
it's more like, okay, go
ahead, and let me
know when it's over.
I see she says. so it's not
really sex. its more
like a favor. yeah. I guess
so. a perk, I guess
to keep me around.
interesting she says.
and you, what's your
longest stretch.
a week, she says, when
I came down with the flu
last winter. she smiles
and pushes the dish
of calamari towards you,
but you shake your head
and say. nah.