"Well, that would make him smart, wouldn't it?"  "Doesn't count if it's smart to hide the fact that he's stupid."  That doesn't make a lot of sense, it doesn't matter, she's off again, "Or he could be retarded.  That's it.  A hottie retard.  But it could happen."  Now she's firing the 1000 questions at me.  "Would you stay with him if he was a retard?  Would you stay with him if he was borderline retard?"  I don't answer on the account of I'm actually a decent human being that doesn't use the term "retard" but it doesn't matter.  "You know what it is?  It's a weird form of control.  By not talking, he's controlling the relationship.  Letting you make all the decisions, yet deferring to him at every turn.  It's a passive-aggressive thing.  And you're letting him do it."  I look at her.  Holy shit.  That might be it.  Oh God.  Life's crushing realization at a Hamburger Hamlet across from the Chinese Theater on Hollywood Boulevard, the one place I hate more than the dentist.  That sucks.  That really really really sucks.