All men crave a relationship based on pratfalls and mishearings, as well as the comfort to look at another man in this way.

“Frankly, I’m worried.”

“Yeah, me too, and Please, you can just call me Frank.”

Please nodded while loosening his bright red tie. “I’ve never had to wait this long before.”

“Please, let me tell you, the reason I was so hesitant to come here in the first place. The last time, oh my God, the last time, it destroyed my marriage.”

Please was growing uncomfortable. Why was Frankly, he meant Frank, overstating his name? Was he wearing a wire? Please’s spider-senses were in overdrive. Secondly, why did this conversation turn so personal? He did not sign on for this drama. He had to interject. “Frankly, I mean Frank, as much as I’d love to indulge in private affairs, but I fear, I must take my leave.”

Frank knew this was an outright lie, but he was good with that. This would not be the first time, for this was not his first rodeo of untruth, nor would it be his last. The world had always been the home of dishonesty, and mostly, deaf to sympathy human robots. Frank made no attempt to hide his disappointment, and hung his head in shame. He tried to walk through Please as if he was not there.

What followed was akin to a pinball jammed against a bumper, all whistles and bells without result. Please ultimately stepped aside. It is safe to assume that Frankly and Please never crossed paths again.