While rummaging through a storage container this afternoon I came across a picture of an ex-girlfriend who spent the majority of her time feigning depression, eating peanut butter and cream cheese, chasing Valium with sparkling wine, and watching “Pretty Woman” over and over and over again. Looking back I understand that she was trying desperately to reinvent herself as some sort of tragic, disillusioned neo-yuppie turned nihilist-in-the-making with a secret heart of gold. Of course, it was all bullshit. Everything mattered to her and she was an evil bitch to everyone. Because she had received a large inheritance some time before we met, she did not work. Nor did she attempt to educate herself in any way other than gathering data on which combination of various imported skin creams would most effectively retain the youthfulness of her bitchy face. I hated her. However, under the circumstances I was inclined to stay with her for several reasons. 1) She had at some point, for some strange, drunken reason, ordered an enormous amount of Kobe beef, which she kept in an immense deep freezer in the utility room. 2) She had every movie channel imaginable, a remarkable jacuzzi, and dozens of cases of high-end champagne. 3) She also had a very beautiful roommate with a strong predisposition toward nymphomania and no qualms about exploring it with me. Considering that my girlfriend was often unconscious or recovering from a hangover in her room while watching Julia Roberts be a whore, I had plenty of spare time to have wild sex in the jacuzzi, then cook up the world’s best steak to wash down with icy Dom Perignon while flipping between Predator, Die Hard, and Rocky IV. In exchange for these luxuries I made sure that my girlfriend was always well-stocked with peanut butter and cream cheese. In the end, it was a mutually beneficial relationship.