Not For The Faint of Heart. Or The Sighted.
I'm sorry, you guys. I have so much that I want to say--I am almost completely consumed by irritation when I watch General Hospital these days, which I'd like to write off as complete hyperbole but it's actually just a sad yet true statement about my tendency to become overly invested in ridiculous things like this incarnation of Franco and Silas's seemingly limitless supply of utter doucheitude (on the plus side, it seems like I now have a new recipient for the Ryan Lavery insults I've been stockpiling over the years!)--but I'm not going to be able to say it or anything else because this conversation happened between Patrick, who I'm assuming is suffering from some sort of undiagnosed brain injury, and the world's most childlike 27 year old (the very explicit mention of her age the other day didn't make me think "Oh, they're closer in age than I thought. So not ew!" as much as it made me think of a ridiculous and embarrassing playground game my friends and I used to play where we envisioned glamorous and successful adult futures--when we pretended to be as old as, like, fifteen. Holy maturity, right?! It's like Sabrina was playing MASH and thought "It's just a dream, but it could totally happen if I was 27!")
Patrick: Never, never, never imagined?
Sabrina: No! Well, I mean, imagined -- yeah. Maybe once or twice. But it was fleeting.
Patrick: Once or twice?
Sabrina: Yeah. It seemed presumptuous, not to mention far-fetched.
Patrick: So, does the, uh... reality live up to the fantasy?
Sabrina: Oh, well, um... I don't know. You never really know what it's gonna be like to be close to someone. I mean, at least not in my limited experience.
Patrick: You're wonderful. Yes.
Patrick: Caring and generous, open, and so very sexy.
Sabrina: My god, I'm blushing.
Patrick: I just want to make sure you're enjoying yourself.
I wish I could be more eloquent than this, but: ick and ew and stuff.