I’ve always known I’d want to say I love you, maybe since the day I saw you from across a crowded room and asked someone, “Who is he?”
Like really though… how do you make it not weird but read totally interested at the same time? You settle on the side hug thing where your neck kind of cranes into their chest and you rub-pat their stomach, but then you’re both walking to your destination and your hand that is so lonely and cold and definitely unsuspecting feels another hand creep on into it.
You’ll only say “I love you,” when it matters. When they need to hear it.
I am a girl who loves her football because of many reasons (none being the tight uniforms). To name a few, there’s greasy food, heavy quantities of beer, and the privilege to yell at your TV without judgment.
Why do you think so many men are unhappily married?
Here are a few suggestions to promote honesty and see if it’s worth going on a second date.
Along your routine and endless commutes you are bound to encounter a few driver types that know just how to rub dirt into all of your vehicular wounds. They are unavoidable; not even Waze knows how to alert you.
Why should we be someone’s short-lived entertainment while we sit naively dreaming up an unrealistic future? The best way to move on quickly is to get out before it’s too late.
What should be a simple ride from Point A to Point B can quickly turn into the worst part of your day because people suck.
It’s a soothing reminder that no matter my age, I can still manage to revert so quickly to the points in life that make me FEEL. That I’m not as jaded as I so often assume.