eh, Shakespeare's a chump...

Can I tell you a secret?  I hate it when another man is a writer.  I hate it.  Great, now I have to make sure he doesn't say anything witty, in case she decides to go with him.  I hope he's one of those guys that tells people he's a poet, he goes to the gym, and that his poems are cheesy—please let his poems be cheesy.  Oh, the sweet wave of relief when his poems are cheesy...or else, I don't know...or else I'll throw my shoe at him.  And if his wit starts flowing all over the place, I gotta make sure they don't notice my sulking; worse yet, if the bitch identifies my nonchalance as a defense mechanism.  I hope he busts out with his notepad and while everybody—God, I hate him!