Skype’s The Limit

Tom: I…I just…I just don’t understand. I thought we had something special. I thought we had something worth waiting for.

Amy: It’s just too hard, Tom. Me, here at podiatry school in Ontario, and you, off drilling for oil in Uzbekistan. It’s tearing me up inside. I can’t do it anymore.

Tom: But what about the Skype phone I sent you? We can talk all the time now. And it’s all free, since we’re both Skype users. I can even call you free or cheap when you’re home visiting your folks in Duluth.

Amy: Yeah, assuming your Internet connection works.

Tom: You know I can’t help that, Amy. Think about where I am.

Amy: I know, I know. It doesn’t matter. The telecommunications infrastructure of Uzbekistan is not the problem with this relationship.

Tom: Then what, Amy?

Amy: Remember when we met, Tom? When I found your tooth on the ice? You looked so dashing pummeling that power forward from Knife River. Remember how huge his Adam’s apple was?

Tom: Heh, yeah. My knuckles are still scraped up from whaling on that dude.

Amy: And you told me you had this three-year contract to go to Uzbekistan, and we gave each other those rings with the little hands holding the heart, and it was all such a whirlwind. My heart got caught up in the drama, the desperation. All those passionate letters from you covered in those crazy Uzbek stamps, the occasional crackly phone call where we tried to say so much in so little time. Every little scrap of contact with you meant so much to me.

Tom: Me, too. So what’s the problem?

Amy: The problem, Tom? The problem? The problem is these damn Skype phones. It’s too easy now, Tom. How can I work up a good yearning when I know you’ll call every day? And, well…I don’t want to be cruel…

Tom: What? What? I have a right to know.

Amy: Well, now that we talk so often on our Skype phones, I’m starting to realize that you’re really boring. Like, really, really boring. When you’re droning on and on about the gelogical strata of the blah blah blah, I mean, God help me. I can’t stand it anymore. Life’s too short and the world’s too big.

Tom: But I -

Amy: Shhh. We’ve said enough. You’ll only make it worse. A part of me will always love the man I thought you were. Fortunately for me, it’s a very tiny part.

Tom: Please, Amy, don’t -

Amy: This will be the last time we ever speak, Tom. Goodbye. I’m hanging up my USRobotics USB Internet Speakerphone now. I hope you can find the strength to do the same.