We get together and make fun of each other’s girlfriends until we have to fight. Each of us is left without a choice and we can’t get on with the evening until it’s resolved. My therapist tells me it’s a form of primal therapy. We’re modern men and try not to be too misogynistic about it. We try not to talk about appearance or sex, although that does swiftly cut to the quick.

“I saw Joan at the bar with that hunk from the gas station yesterday,” I tell Klaus. Often, I opt for lies.

“Yeah? What did Liz make for dinner last night? More hot dogs and chips? She must like big guys.” It’s okay to insult the other’s appearance. Also, he’s right. I’ve gained over thirty pounds since meeting Liz. And we did, in fact, have hot dogs and chips for dinner last night, but I made them.

“We mostly eat out,” I lie. “It keeps things equal.”

Klaus rolls his eyes.

“Did Joan buy those shoes for you?” I say.

Klaus looks down at his shoes. “What the fuck’s wrong with my shoes?”

“They’re super weird. Whoever picked them out clearly doesn’t have a functioning brain.”

“They were my Christmas present. I’d wanted them forever.”

“Still. Joan should know better.”

“Is it true Liz makes you shit in the yard?” It is, but I’m not going to tell him this. I understand her reasoning.

“What about you? You have to pee sitting down?”

“It’s a choice, okay? Less mess.”

“Then she must shave your ass as well.”

“Sure. It’s erotic.”

Klaus punches me in the stomach.

“What the fuck?” I say after catching my breath.

“I couldn’t think of any more insults.”

This is usually the way it goes. Klaus and I are not bright guys.

I hit him in the arm and then we’re off, wrestling on the floor until we get tired and sweaty.

When we’re finished, we clamber back onto the couch and watch some porno Klaus brought over.

He checks his phone before going home.

“Joan broke up with me,” he says. He doesn’t seem incredibly sad.

“This really changes things,” I say.

“You never even met her,” he says.

“It’s because she’s too good for me.” This feels like an admission of some kind. “Which means she’s too good for you.”

“You’re probably right,” Klaus says. He slides his phone back into his pocket and heads out to his car.

I pick up my phone and text Liz before remembering she’d blocked me months ago.