Stephen was like my personal frat boy Barbie who came complete with a nasty coke problem and a bad eating disorder. Stephen’s diet consisted of coke, coke, adderall, more coke, weed and the occasional leaf of lettuce (seriously, the only food I ever saw him eat was salad, this boy ate more salad than I did).
I was so desperate not to lose him then. And I did love him. Wildly and passionately, as one loves a best friend—but never as one loves a lover. So when he gave me an ultimatum—be my girlfriend or be nothing more—what could I do? I fell into his arms with a sense of foreboding, but I kept talking myself out of it.
I know it may not seem that way, because you are tapping letters on an electronic typewriter into a buzzing screen that has so many words on it, but you are actually communicating with people. Just like all of those people you no doubt keep in touch with on your WWE and Paula Deen forums, your Facebook friends can actually read what you write, as well.
Perhaps if you follow girls around doing only what they want to do and subverting your will in favor of theirs, you will think you are being nice, but others are liable to view you as a doormat, potentially lacking in will or direction, and/or bereft of substance to contribute to an ideally-equitable relationship. These are not desirable traits in a partner…
I’m sitting at home reading the live-tweets of an acquaintance’s night out. They were eating sushi but now they’re headed to a bar named Black & White with three of their friends. Now, they’re trying to meet up with their other friend to go to some diner. Gee, it’s like I’m right there with them instead of in bed wearing a nightgown.