Everyone is eschewing interaction with me. I am nonplussed.

You might guess that my embryonic study schedule has engendered my absconsion from social connections, but let me disabuse you of this insipid notion. Nothing has changed. I've always been an indefatigable student, and I approached my undergraduate subjects with the same alacrity as the GRE vocabulary words I'm continually (not continuously) studying so sedulously.

Or you might hypothesize that I've become gauche or lost my sense of propriety, but such a judgment would be untenable given my unwavering verbal decorum. My discursive approach has been immutable, so my postulation is that the change has been on the part of my interlocutors, especially my girlfriend Susie.

She has hitherto been, inter alia, ebullient, but since I started studying for the GRE Verbal section, she’s been taciturn. It's as if conversing with me has a veritable soporific effect on her. Except she’s awake enough to cover her ears and chant, “Shut up. Shut up. Shut up. Shut up!”

When I try to propitiate her by being even less loquacious than usual, she admonishes me with an unuttered sententiousness that I find impenetrable. When I catechize her about her sentiments, she resorts to laconic prevarications before shifting to perceptible vexation. “Why don’t you go study your big fucking words or something?” she asks. Quite an angry, off-topic suggestion, but a decent one given my quest for lexical superiority.

Her continual (not continuous, but it sure seems like it) displays of derogation render her formal status as my inamorata an anachronism. I can only deduce that the mainspring of this development is an undisclosed paramour. Although I have a paucity of direct evidence of her surreptitious hedonism, I can, with remarkable sangfroid, infer that she has an insatiable yearning for supine treachery. There is no way around it. Why else would she avoid coitus with me and instead propose that I go “fuck [my] dictionary.”

Susie’s disesteem is no anomaly. My best friend Jake has always been munificent with his conviviality toward me, but I cannot help but decry his exasperation during the colloquies we have had since I started studying for the GRE Verbal section. “Just be normal, dude,” he’ll say. “And quit trying to colloquy me.” Since when is a little tête-à-tête abnormal?

Despite my attempts to mollify his apparent odium, Jake’s aversion to me is implacable. Potential calumny aside, it would be material mendacity if I designedly omitted my inchoate supposition that Jake is Susie’s clandestine leman. Why else would he sigh and ask where Susie is every time I try to salvage our irremediable interchanges by getting out the Latin and Greek roots flashcards?

Perhaps worse than Jake’s and Susie’s duplicity, my progenitors have all but repudiated our consanguinity. Mom has always been solicitous about my wellbeing, but as soon as I started studying for the GRE Verbal section, our chinwags became sporadic and perfunctory. “I see you learned some more words,” she’ll say. “No fever? Got enough money?” Click.

Dad has analogously transmuted. Before I started studying for the GRE Verbal section, he was affable and garrulous. That’s why his sudden unmitigable perturbation toward my estimable disquisitions is confounding. When I thanked him for the opportunities he and Mom provided me, for example, I expected him to say something like, “Your welcome. We’ll do everything we can to help you succeed.” You know what he said? He said if I called him a “benefactor” one more time he’d quit paying my rent. Why can't he embrace his patronage?

What’s even worse is that he and Mom give insouciant shrugs in response to my lugubriousness, which they precipitated. “Why are you pouting,” Mom will say. “We’re the ones who have to listen to you.” What does that even mean?

After careful rumination, I’ve come to the ineluctable conclusion that Mom and Dad have been having a continual (maybe even continuous) bacchanal with Susie and Jake. I hope the extant perfidy is transient, but the contingent of reprobates’ lechery likely will be sempiternal. So I, the forlorn muggins that I am, will heed Susie’s advice and go cloister in my sanctum and fuck my dictionary, continuously (yes, continuously).


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