Girlfriend Asks: What do you even do when you’re with “just the guys?”
Translation: You better not be having fun, laughing and enjoying life without me present.
Translation: Hmm, if I can convince the jury that it was an accident, I could probably get out after 5-10 which, at this point, might be worth it.
Girlfriend Says: Sure, do whatever you want — I don’t care.
Translation: You know damn well what I want you to do, so if don’t abide… then eventually I will strike down upon thee, with great vengeance and FUUURIOUS ANGER, those who attempt to ignore and disregard my obvious wishes. And you will know my voicemail recording by heart, when I unleash the ignore button upon thee.
Girlfriend: I’m going to start getting ready.
Translation: The getting-ready-start-process includes anything including but not limited to: browsing the closet, calling friends to see what they’re wearing, watching YouTube makeup videos, listening to Unwritten by Natasha Bedingfield (for confidence purposes), light-to-mild dancing, miniature photo-shoots, Instagramming, and any other impromptu preparation.
Girlfriend Says: I’m fine.
Translation: Since you’re concerned as to why I’m annoyed, I’m going to drag this out and see how much you’re willing to pry for me.
Girlfriend Says (annoyed): I’m almost done getting ready!
Translation: Dude, I’ll be ready when I’m ready. Maybe if you’d let me do my thing instead of bombarding me with the same stupid question, this process would speed up some. Didja’ ever think of that?
Girlfriend Asks: Who was that girl you were talking to?
Translation: I’ll be locating and investigating her Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, etc.
Girlfriend: Oh, flowers? Thaaanks.
Translation: Where’s the wine though? Tulips don’t give me a warm buzz.
Girlfriend: So today this guy at work was all like ____.
Translation: I know you stopped listening after this guy at work because you’re worried. Do you feel that? It’s all of your comfortableness disintegrating into a sea of unknown-new-guy that runs as deep as your imagination will sink you down to. Now you’re not so relaxed about you and I, are you? Good — back to work.
Girlfriend Says: We need to talk.
Translation: HERE COMES SOME FORM OF BAD. JUST REALLY, REALLY AWFUL, NEWS.
Girlfriend Says: We’re just going to do a girls night in.
Translation: We’re going to get buzzed on wine (which I bought myself, because you got me stupid flowers instead) and talk about how much our boyfriends piss us off. I’ll probably tell a humiliating story or two that you’d hate for me to share.
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I thought that a man crying was a rare and ugly thing, certainly nothing that I would encounter in my romantic life.
You were a founding figure in the “adorkable” movement.
I always imagined as I grew old and desperate I would become less picky when it came to qualifications for men. Strangely enough, I’ve experienced the opposite. Consider the Erica of age 18.
I love the internet. It’s a wonderful place to discover new artists and talented writers and cats playing with yarn. But lately, it’s getting me a little down.