Deeply Upset and Offended cornered me outside my Advanced Composition class today, wanting to know how I did on the latest in-class essay. Better than her, it turns out. Which prompted a tirade: our professor is unfair, insensitive, out of touch. I practiced my interested but non-committal look; I don't always remember to side with labor over management, especially when I'm doing well in a course. DUO ended by complaining that papers in which she disagreed with the professor's opinions were graded more harshly.

"I wouldn't know," I told her. "I just write what I think she wants to hear."

DUO blinked. "What if you don't agree with her?"

"Then I write something insincere."

"Why would you do that? Just to get an A?"

It was my turn to look incredulous. "Of course I do it to get an A. I'm not here to win arguments with English instructors about the effectiveness of causal assertions in Virginia Woolf essays."

She sniffed. "I can't write something I don't believe in. It doesn't feel right."

"It feels fine," I said. "There's a song in my heart. I'd whistle but I have this thing with my lips."

"I just can't. If you want to sell yourself out for a grade, that's okay with me. I care about my integrity." And she stomped down the hallway.

So here's the thing: none of what I told DUO is true. I love to argue with my professor; at least half the time, I pick a topic that I think will annoy her. I love to fight so much that I was pretending to be conflict-averse, hoping that DUO would be disgusted enough to yell at me about it.

I am not a well man.