A few weeks ago, I was at Denny’s with one of my best friends. He had just got home from college, and he knew that we had to either go to Denny’s or Applebee’s. It’s tradition for us to either go to Denny’s or Applebee’s and have these intellectual, philosophical arguments with each other. We both love to argue and go at it with each other, and it’s fun and exciting for me to always be right. Truthfully, I’m never wrong. For instance, Pluto is a planet. Here’s why. If you can say once a cheater always a cheater, then I can say once a planet always a planet. Boom, I’m right. Deal with it. End of discussion.
Going back to the story, my friend and I were at Denny’s waiting for our food. While we’re waiting for our food, I bring up the tv show “The Carmichael Show” and a specific episode that I watched. “The Carmichael Show” was an NBC sitcom centered around Jerrod Carmichael, his girlfriend and his family. The show dives into different social and political issues through the perspective of Jerrod Carmichael, his girlfriend and his family.
Anyways, the episode I watched dealt with suicide and suicide assistance. Jerrod Carmichael’s grandmother had decided that she wanted to kill herself. The reason is because she had Alzheimer’s disease, and she was tired of not remembering things. There was disagreement between Jerrod and his family to help his grandma commit suicide, but in the end they ended up helping her kill herself. After I was done explaining the episode to my friend, I posed the question, “Is it morally or ethically right to help someone commit suicide?” And we were off.
We were going back and forth with our arguments. We spent a good 15-20 minutes on the topic, and we ended up just calling it a draw. But I was definitely right, for sure. How could I ever be wrong? But we ended the discussion.
My friend and I started talking about Trump and how he’s doing as president. All of sudden, this old, white lady came to our table wanting to say something. My friend and I were both nervous and didn’t know what to expect. We thought that she was going to say something about us talking about Trump, but she was concerned about the conversation we had about suicide. We quickly assured her that we were just talking about a show, and we were just speaking hypothetically with everything. She was relieved to hear this and left us alone. When she was gone, we started laughing. We were laughing because we thought that she was going to get on us for what we were saying about Trump. We thought that she was going to rant about how great he was and how he was going to “Make America Great Again.” Thank goodness we did not have to hear any of that.
Eventually, we got our food and started eating. While we’re eating, we talk about different stuff like videogames, movies, TV shows, Bitcoin and high school. Pretty much normal conversation. Then, the topic of girls come into the discussion. My friend and I are both single, and we both want to be single. I have my reasons, and he has his reasons. I won’t share them now because that’s an entirely, long different story. Anyways, we somehow end up making a pact, contract and agreement. We made a pact that if I go on four dates with a girl, then he would have to go on one date with a girl. But if he goes on one date before I go on four dates with a girl, then I would have to go on six dates with the same girl. The reason I have to go on four dates is because in my opinion four dates with the same girl means that you’re committed to her. I have never gone on more than four dates with the same girl for a number of reasons. Hopefully, I’ll be able to share those reasons on “The Warfield Zone.” The reason my friend has to go on one date is because he’s never been on a date. Also, if I go on my four dates and he struggles for a month to find someone to go out with, then he has to use Tinder to find a date and vice versa. We ended up making a contract with rules and clauses about who we can and can’t date. We have to date someone that we genuinely like, and we have to provide evidence like pictures, conversations, etc. Finally, we agreed with everything in the contract and ended up shaking hands to solidify our agreement.
Truthfully, I don’t know why we agreed to this, but it doesn’t matter. We made the pact, the contract and the agreement, and all we can do is honor it.
The Warfield Zone 