“…and so yeah, I’m an idiot,” I said, punctuating the end of a long exposition of something dumb I did.

“Yes. You are definitely an idiot,” Brent agrees.

“I know! And I have like, the need to keep repeating it, because it’s like, I know I’m an idiot and I don’t want you to think I don’t know I’m an idiot.”

“Well, your problem is that you didn’t see how this would turn out.”

“Actually I did,” I confess. “I was just being consciously naïve.”

“Consciously naïve?”

“Yeah, like Cassandra in “I Capture the Castle.” Actually, last summer was consciously naïve, this was just more like, ‘I know exactly what I’m doing, and I shouldn’t do it, but whatever.”

“You really are an idiot,” Brent says, shaking his head.

“I know!”

“Why do you tell me these things?”

“Because, I know they’re like, shameful, and I can’t NOT tell you, and I know that you will agree with me that it’s shameful.”

“Right. I tell you it’s shameful. And give you more reasons why it’s shameful,” Brent says helpfully. “I bring a fresh perspective to the situation.”

“Exactly!”