but you can’t make her think.
A friend likes to tell me that if I stick around long enough, I show great promise of becoming every bit as bitter an old broad. I’m sure you do too.
So have a martini, on us, and a poem, on Dorothy.
In youth, it was a way I had
To do my best to please,
And change, with every passing lad,
To suit his theories.
But now I know the things I know,
And do the things I do;
And if you do not like me so,
To hell, my love, with you!
NB this is also the motto of my love life. Explains a bit, no?