(The following blogpost is being intentionally presented in gender-neutral format, so as not to hinder your imaginative freedom.)
L: "Whattup? Can I call you Big?"
B: "Just hangin'. And sure. If I can call you Little. So whattup with you, Little?"
L: "My rider person wants to dump me. Totally blows."
B: "Feel your pain, Little. Me and my rider person, I thought we were seriously down. I feel like a chump saying this now, but at one point in our relationship I couldn't have even fathomed pondering the question that I am now compelled to ask, which is, How Deep Is Your Love?"
L: " Yeahs, I know. I'm starting to see how it is, though. You put your ALL into the relationship and this is what you are left with. At this point, I'm left to wonder, How Can You Mend A Broken Heart?"
B: "Isn't that a song or something?"
B: "So whadya do? For work?"
L: "Well, it's not steady, but when I can get it, I devour tarmac and spit it out my ass. You?"
[B spends several, long, awkward moments processing this crudely-presented foreign concept, this alternate reality. At long last, he/she does the best he/she can.]
B: "So . . . does your rider person ride you . . . fast?"
L: "Never fast enough. Always blames it on me, though."
B: "Harsh. Sorry, Little. If it makes you feel any better, my rider person could stand to lose more than a few pounds, but always blames it on me."
L: "Figures. These rider persons . . . they're all the same."
B: "You know, . . . I'm in this support group . ."
L: [Abruptly cuts Big off] . . . "I don't have time for that bullshit!"
B: "Little, uhh, can I just say, that, uhh . . . you're kinda sexy, in your own way."
L: [Blush] "Funny. I was just thinking the same thing about you."
B: "Hey, you wanna hang out for a while?"