A Coup de Grâce Can Score You Major Points In A Relationship
The hallmark of a great man is being able to stand up and say, “Hey, I was wrong.”
Yes, I made a mistake.
How? Well, for one, I told my girlfriend that I would not kill her. Major flub.
Why would I kill my girlfriend? I wouldn’t, under normal circumstances.
Let me frame a normal day for us. I pull into her driveway, and sit in the car honking the horn (I have programmed a Pavlovian ‘sound-of-horn=come-outside-NOW’ response deep within her psyche). But wait. Pretend, for this hypothetical exercise, she doesn’t immediately come out. So I have to physically lift my body out of my car, huff all the way up her sidewalk, onto the deck, to the door. It’s never come to that, but I imagine I’d be pretty angry by that point.
We can all see where this is going, but stay with me. Next, I begin pounding on the door, yelling, ‘GET YOUR ASS OUT HERE!’ I haven’t conditioned a response for that cue into her yet, but I think she would understand what I wanted her to do. I stand there, agitation escalating, but also happy with anticipation, because Pavlovian cue or not, she always knows to bring me a beer and a Snickers bar when I am at her house, no matter where on the property I happen to be located.
She still hasn’t exited her house. At this juncture, it’s apparent that she’s trying to get my goat on purpose. Poor move.
But then let’s say I peek in the window, and any one of the following scenarios has occurred:
}She was on a stool, trying to make a deposit in the Swear Jar on top of the refrigerator, slipped, grabbed the gigantic cooling device for support, and pulled the whole thing down on top of her, turning her body into a pancake.
}Her cats, ever recalcitrant, finally snapped and ate her limbs and vestigial organs.
}She was in the community pool, swam too close to that thing in the bottom, and got her guts sucked out her ass.
The point I’m trying to make is that some horrible accident has happened where she would be better off dead. Unless of course she wants to live as a no-limbed pancake that’s missing a good percentage of its digestive system.
The French refer to it as the ‘blow of mercy,’ the coup de grâce.
I would be a terrible, terrible boyfriend if I didn’t do that for her.