(Taken from a conversation with CW from some time ago, shortly after I had seen the Anna Karenina movie in theatres and it had hit a little too close to home at the time.)
For those of you that don’t know, Vronsky is the artful seducer in Leo Tolstoy’s classic novel that steals the protagonist away from her husband, only to ditch her later for his next conquest. Having been left distraught and alone, Anna decides to commit suicide by throwing herself under the train tracks. Sorry for the spoiler alert, but you should really read the book. Or, if you can’t handle 800+ pages of 19th century Russian melodrama, see the movie.
Me: I saw Anna Karenina last night and now have this unshakable feeling of dread.
CW: Stay away from all trains!
Me: But I have to take trains to and from work!
CW: I wonder what Anna Karenina would’ve done if she lived in NYC now. Maybe just eaten a pint of ice cream while watching Bridget Jones’s Diary.
Me: But that would be SO anti-climactic.
CW: But sort of true…
Me: Fucking Vronsky! I’ve probably dealt with three of four Vronsky-types by now.
CW: No more Vronskys!
Me: I’ll try.
CW: The next time you meet someone, just say, “Excuse me, Sir, are you a Vronsky?” If they don’t get the reference, they probably are.
Me: We’ll call these situations “a case of the Vronskys.”
CW: YES! They’re a disease.