“Well, it’s good to meet you, Fred.” “Please don’t call me that,” I say forcibly, half joking. “What? Why not?” He looks comically offended. “It’s not a particularly sexy name,” I say. “Winnifred is bad enough, but Fred? I sound like the creepy uncle you don’t invite to Thanksgiving.” “Agree to disagree.” “Imagine crying out ‘Fred’ in the bedroom.” His smirk grows, and I glare at him, deciding to make my point clear. “Oh, Fred,” I moan. “Yes, Fred!” I cry, probably a bit too loudly, in fake passion. “It’s awful.”
