“I had done to death the candles and champagne, the roses, the dawn breakfasts, the transatlantic telephone calls and the impulsive plane rides.” 

The narrator philosophizes throughout the text about numerous prior love affairs, admitting that a susceptibility to overly sentimental, romanticized depictions of love during earlier years. In an effort to avoid domestic tedium, the narrator was embroiled in another kind of emotionally exhausting, yet equally predictable, form of monotony. 

“On the job I found it helped to carry a gun.” 

The narrator relates a witty story related to Inge, an ex-lover who was a Dutch anarcha-feminist. Troubled by her inability to destroy phallic symbol architecture such as the Eiffel Tower because of her appreciation of romantic beauty, Inge involves the narrator in a plan to detonate bombs in public men’s lavatories in Paris. The narrator is assigned to evacuate all the users of the restroom in advance; because the narrator has been ignored on previous occasions, the narrator finds that displaying a weapon is the best mechanism for getting attention. 

“I had survived shipwreck and I liked my new island with hot and cold running water and regular visits from the milkman.” 

The narrator recalls the start of the relationship with Jacqueline, a relatively unsophisticated young zoo worker who thrives on establishing domestic order for her new lover. Upon meeting Jacqueline, the narrator’s first thought was: “I have nothing to say to this woman” (25); however, in an effort to avoid the heartbreak of a passionate affair, the pair settles into a comfortable, albeit passionless, relationship.