This Valentine’s Day, James Franco and I have decided to spend more time apart. It was a difficult decision, as you can imagine, and one of which he is completely unaware, but it’s a sign of our emotional maturity, I think, that we can agree on something like this, without damaging the overall stability of our relationship, of which he is also unaware.
After all, we live in a modern world, and we’re both very busy people. Spending more time apart will give James — or Jib-Jib, as I call him — more time to pursue his activities, which include acting, writing, directing, attending graduate school, devising art projects, hosting the Oscars™, going to gallery openings and gala screenings, producing a remake of Three’s Company, spokesmodeling, and, lately, singing.
And I’ll have more time to pursue my activities, which include writing about James Franco, reading about James Franco, looking at pictures of James Franco, drawing pictures of James Franco, searching for James Franco on the Internet, searching for James Franco on the Columbia campus, thinking about James Franco, dreaming about James Franco, doodling “Bill + James Franco = Luv 4Ever” on my notebook, my blue jeans, my sneakers, and the walls of my bedroom; and standing on the corner outside James Franco’s apartment wondering what James Franco is doing right now — you know, all the things that anybody does these days who writes about entertainment and popular culture.
If you think that mustache tickles, you’re probably right.
I have no idea.
That’s quite a crowded agenda. Is it any wonder that we’ve been too busy to spend time together? Is it any wonder that I still haven’t seen his Oscar™-nominated performance in 127 Hours? (Granted, I’m a little queasy about that one, because I can’t stand the thought of his losing one of his beautiful James Franco arms.) With all the stuff that Jib-Jib has to do, is it any wonder that he hasn’t had time to meet me, or even to know that I’m alive?
So it makes sense. Now Jib-Jib can lead his exciting James Franco life, and I can lead my exciting James Franco-less life, without undermining the essential foundations of our long-term, long-distance relationship.
Jib-Jib, as he looked the first day I saw him.
Sometimes, I still call him “Carlos the Dwarf,” for old times’ sake.
Some people will scoff and say, “Oh, but Bill, this relationship has been such a central part of one of your lives for so many years — you can’t just ‘cool it’ or ‘put it on hold’ or walk away from it!” But of course I don’t have any intention of walking away. I think I can safely speak for Jib when I say that our feelings for each other have never changed a bit, from the start. We’re just striving for better balance, really.
And don’t forget that absence makes the heart grow fonder, after all. Why, at this rate, James Franco will be madly in love with me, by the time he meets me! Provided he ever does.
So here’s wishing you a Happy Valentine’s, Jib Darling.
P.S. I promise you, Taylor Lautner means nothing to me.
After all, we live in a modern world, and we’re both very busy people. Spending more time apart will give James — or Jib-Jib, as I call him — more time to pursue his activities, which include acting, writing, directing, attending graduate school, devising art projects, hosting the Oscars™, going to gallery openings and gala screenings, producing a remake of Three’s Company, spokesmodeling, and, lately, singing.
And I’ll have more time to pursue my activities, which include writing about James Franco, reading about James Franco, looking at pictures of James Franco, drawing pictures of James Franco, searching for James Franco on the Internet, searching for James Franco on the Columbia campus, thinking about James Franco, dreaming about James Franco, doodling “Bill + James Franco = Luv 4Ever” on my notebook, my blue jeans, my sneakers, and the walls of my bedroom; and standing on the corner outside James Franco’s apartment wondering what James Franco is doing right now — you know, all the things that anybody does these days who writes about entertainment and popular culture.
If you think that mustache tickles, you’re probably right.I have no idea.
That’s quite a crowded agenda. Is it any wonder that we’ve been too busy to spend time together? Is it any wonder that I still haven’t seen his Oscar™-nominated performance in 127 Hours? (Granted, I’m a little queasy about that one, because I can’t stand the thought of his losing one of his beautiful James Franco arms.) With all the stuff that Jib-Jib has to do, is it any wonder that he hasn’t had time to meet me, or even to know that I’m alive?
So it makes sense. Now Jib-Jib can lead his exciting James Franco life, and I can lead my exciting James Franco-less life, without undermining the essential foundations of our long-term, long-distance relationship.
Jib-Jib, as he looked the first day I saw him.Sometimes, I still call him “Carlos the Dwarf,” for old times’ sake.
Some people will scoff and say, “Oh, but Bill, this relationship has been such a central part of one of your lives for so many years — you can’t just ‘cool it’ or ‘put it on hold’ or walk away from it!” But of course I don’t have any intention of walking away. I think I can safely speak for Jib when I say that our feelings for each other have never changed a bit, from the start. We’re just striving for better balance, really.
And don’t forget that absence makes the heart grow fonder, after all. Why, at this rate, James Franco will be madly in love with me, by the time he meets me! Provided he ever does.
So here’s wishing you a Happy Valentine’s, Jib Darling.
P.S. I promise you, Taylor Lautner means nothing to me.
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