The Trouble with being Agreeable

Boasting isn't the term I wanted. Congratulating is merely the tie-in.

Well, I figured out the type. And, well, they're me alright. Me right to the word, of course not. The three magic words.
They should never be said, of course not. They lead to many unscripted but rewritten passages, too many to take note of them all.
If simply by calendar. That would be easier, wouldn't it?

Easier to take me by the hand and buy an ice cream, than to walk into your house and say Hullo. Shall we have dinner at eight, dining in? Of course not, we'll go out.
Take my hand in Paris, but not in your town. It's just not right. You know I could convince myself of anything. Love, in fact.
Vanilla, of course. Strawberry, of course not.
Going on strong and going on in a hurry are two separate things. Hurry? Of course not, I say.
That only confuses things, because of course I'm in a hurry. Rushing to get to the door and to see you and say, good bye.
On to the next day, the next month, of course.