“Sheila! I haven’t seen you all summer. I hear you’re dating Rocko.”

“Yeah, and it’s been great. He’s taken me to all the shows, like Phish and Dave Matthews Band, and he’s promised to take me to see Tom Tom Club, Berlin and the Spitfire Tour.”

“I didn’t think Rocko had a job. Where does he get all the money?”

“Money? Who needs money when you’re 300 pounds of sheer muscle?”

“I don’t understand.”

“It’s simple. When he took me to see Jimmy Buffett, he just walked right up to a couple, punched the guy out and grabbed the tickets right out of his hands.”

“The four-knuckle discount?”

“You got it. It turned out that the tickets weren’t very good, but once he told the usher the situation, we were upgraded to the front row.”

“The situation? What situation?”

“We wanted better seats and the usher wanted to keep his teeth.”

“How romantic! Gosh, Sheila, how do you manage to get the best boyfriends?”

“You just have to understand men. Once you know what they want, the rest is easy.”

“You mean you relate to the man’s inner child?”

“Exactly. When I wanted to see Dandy Warhols, he just stopped strangers on the street and demanded they gave him money. Or when we went to see Neil Young, he kept kicking and spitting at the people sitting in front of us until they bought us food and drinks from the concession stands. Life is easy when you’re dating a big boy like Rocko. I get to see Hanson and Gregg Allman & Friends and he gets to intimidate, frighten and maim total strangers. It’s a win-win deal for both of us.”

“Gee, I wish I had a boyfriend like Rocko. What’s the… well… you know, like?”

“Couldn’t be better. He never asks, never complains, never demands. He’d rather work out down at the gym.”

“Wow, Sheila, you’ve got it made. I guess size really does matter.”

“You got it. Now, would you mind giving me a hand with this 50 pound crate of raw meat? If Rocko doesn’t get his ten squares a day, I’m afraid the poor boy will just waste away.”