Dr. Sheldon Cooper here,
The days go by slowly (in lamest terms, they're filled with joy) now that Amy Farah Fowler is in my life. It's as if I have met my match on an intellectual and psychological basis. When she's around me, my nostrils begin to flare, my palms start to sweat, and my genitalia react as they have done on no previous occasions. I feel as if I am on a cloud (as Koothrappali says), and as my mother would say, 'it is one of Jesus' many gifts.'
I, as you know, Diary, find the very notion of deity to be complete hokum, but nevertheless, I will yield on this special occasion. I must say, it is as if my life has been completed; my job is almost at a breakthrough in understanding the string-theory implications of the creation and structure of the universe, I have created a social-web packed with people I deem worthy, and now, Amy is the crown on top of my head: the cap of my pyramid, if you will.
Bazinga!
I crack myself up sometimes… I find that I must take the job of other people, seeing as I am so difficult to amuse. Although I share a deep love for Amy, much like the love I have for my Mother and Meemaw, I have no desire for anything more than a relationship of the minds. On that note, I must add that I was deeply disappointed in Amy when she made me cuddle with her, and before that, she had the audacity to put coitus onto the table! I truly wish Amy never met the Cornhusking Nebraskan who is Penny.
Penny has turned Amy, who I thought to be spectacular, into something more depressing. Now Amy ingests alcohol on a regular basis, has smoked a cigar (possibly more than once, but I asked her to stop informing about her "Girls Nights" after she came home 'wasted'), and has even held my hand. To this day I don't understand how she has gone through such a hogwash metamorphosis: Frank Kafka would be ashamed of her! Anyway, I will now inform you of my day with Amy on Friday.
Seeing as it was a Friday, my t-shirt was embossed with the Flash's symbol, the crimson red backdrop shining like the Pasadena sun. Amy wore a plaid skirt (heinous, in my opinion, but being the social person I am, I told her it was delightful (her bad traits are rubbing off on me)) which was yellow and blue, a white t-shirt, and a purple sweatshirt on top. On her legs were maroon stockings, and her feet were clad with what I assume to be pleather shoes. Anyway, fashion is a tangent which I could jibber-jabber about all day, yet, seeing as I am nothing but a focused man, I will return to my original statement.
Amy was at my apartment, and we were sitting on the couch (of course, I was in my spot, and Amy sat next to me). We were alone that fine sunny day, as Leonard had gone over to Howard's to eat his mother's famous brisket. Based on the fact that his mother scares the bajeezus out of me, I decided to share the day with Amy. Now, in a small flashback, I will give a detailed account of my encounter:
Amy entered the apartment, and to my dismay, she was crying! Being the kind person that I am, I offered her a warm beverage. She asked for cocoa, but seeing as it was May, I could do no such thing (May has no r's in it). She was discouraged by this fact, but she was delighted to find that Leonard had purchased cocoa flavored tea. I heated it to 183 degrees, placed 7 small marshmallows in it (I was attempting to create the illusion that it truly was the cocoa which Amy desired), and handed the mug to her. I had placed a Star Trek cozy on it, so as to avoid any blistering or scalding of the skin due to the excessive heat radiating through the ceramic mug. I sat with her on the couch, placed my hand on her shoulder, and said, "There, there."
After I said this, her tears seemed to cease, and she subsequently opened her mouth.
"Aren't you going to ask me why I'm crying?" Amy looked at me with an expression (if I had to make a stab) that suggested she was unhappy with my lack of comforting methods.
"Of course, Amy! I was simply making you the beverage one offers to saddened guests!"
"Of course, I'm sorry I ever doubted you." She smiled, quickly moving her feet (which were on the floor) onto the couch.
"What are you doing?" I asked, slowly.
"Simple: I'm attempting to coax your mind into fondling my breasts with your hands, and am doing so with the obvious subliminal message of 'being sexy.'"
"Really, Amy? I thought we've already gone over this: no unnecessary touching shall ever, nor has ever, taken place between us!"
Amy shrugged, "That's a pity."
"I'll avoid that last comment in the hopes that you'll stop talking about it. Now, what's troubling you? Additionally, keep in mind that, 'I don't want to talk about it' is a perfectly viable answer."
"Unfortunately for you, I have an extreme desire to talk about it, and am going to now with extreme gusto."
"This, just like your previous comment, is a pity. However, being the loving person I am, I'll allow you to continue."
"Thank you, Sheldon, you're a real friend." Amy shrugged her shoulders, the typical sign that one is about to reveal something deeply personal. She shifted for a minute or two more, and it was beginning to get on my nerves. As if by cue, Amy began to spill her troubles one by one to me.
"Remember how Bernadette and Penny went dress shopping without me a while back?"
"Of course I do, I have an eidetic memory." I gave Amy a look of haughty derision.
"Well, I have been informed implicitly by Leonard that they recently spent a weekend in Big Sur at a spa, and they didn't invite me."
"And so that makes you sad, no?"
"Yes." Amy frowned.
"I knew it!" I let out a sigh of triumph, and quickly recomposed myself.
"Do you have any advice as to how to proceed?"
"I'd like to answer that with a tale of woe from my childhood." I lifted my arm in a circular movement.
"Please… continue." Amy shifted on the couch once more, placing her limbs into a comfortable position.
"In the seventh grade, which for me was essentially college, have you ever pondered who I made friends with?"
"I have, but I came to the conclusion that you had none."
"You have concluded correctly. However, seeing as I always have a logical point to my tales, I will add some more detail."
"Please, Sheldon, I don't want detail, I want support." Amy looked at me, consternated.
"Very well. My point to you is this: Bernadette and Penny didn't not invite you because they didn't want you to be there, but because they thought you wouldn't enjoy it! Now, to relate this back to my statement about college, people didn't want to be my friend not because I was annoying, but because they knew I would find them to be stupid, insolent fools!"
"What a cute, yet saddening story, and not for the reasons I think you believe." I made a confused face. "Thank you Sheldon, I think you actually helped me recover from my fretting." Amy breathed deeply, pushing her hair back with her hand. She then smiled, wiped the wet tears from her pale skin, and straightened herself out.
"Now, are you gonna fondle my breasts, or not?"
I looked away, rolling my eyes powerfully. I then turned to face Amy, and replied with a witty remark, and told her to escort herself out.
"Oh c'mon, you know I'm only kidding!"
"I'm sad to say, that based on recent events, I cannot come to that conclusion."
"Yeah, I guess you're right."
I then stood up, walked over to the fridge, and got myself a bottle of Yoo-hoo. I chugged the liquid (one of the first times I consumed mass amounts of liquid speedily on an occasion where I wasn't being forced by a mean bully), and then returned to my spot on the couch.
"Despite your ridiculous comments about coitus, I'd like to state that I think this conversation was very successful."
"Seconded. You came to the rescue in a time of need, much like I rescue Rhesus monkeys after electrocuting centers of the brain that don't like to be stimulated."
I gave Amy a look of deep confusion, and then solemnly nodded my head.
"Back to the topic of this conversation: if it's OK with you, I'd like to publish it in my online journal."
"I'd be fine with that, as long as you agree to let me scan your brain the next time I lecture you on feelings."
"A shrewd move, Amy Farah Fowler, very shrewd."
I then was forced into a hug (I'm sure I'll be infected by some pathogen she was carrying), and escorted Amy to the door.
"Good day, Sheldon Cooper."
"Good day, Amy Farah Fowler."
There it is, Diary, my encounter with Amy. I'll keep you up to date on my escapades with what seems to be the world's most interesting woman!
Sheldon Cooper AFK