“Naw, man. Naw. Shit, NAW, man! I believe you’d get your ass kicked sayin’ somethin’ like that, man.” 🖕🏼
In 2013 after my breakup, I had a Year of Poor Life Choices. I dated before I was ready, tried to get over my ex, tried to get over the OTHER guy I’d developed a crush on. It turned into a few “relationships” that crashed and burned fairly spectacularly.
One was a friend of my sister’s, and I’m not proud of this, but I ghosted on him. We went on three dates before I realized we had NOTHING in common*, and I TRIED to be an adult and tell him I wasn’t ready to be dating. He asked if we could be friends and I said “sure,” because that’s what you SAY, but you both know you’re not going to be friends — or at least *I* knew.
Eventually I blocked his number and deleted him from Facebook because I am a coward. That was probably the summer of 2014.
THIS MORNING I got a Facebook message from him: “Hey Smug, tour name popped up on my phone so figured I’d say hi….Helloooo. How’s life treating you?”
It’s probably true he saw my name somehow since we still have mutual Facebook friends. But, like… Is there a Clinger beyond Stage 5?**
* When I say “nothing in common,” I mean I went to his Facebook page and he’s now an “all lives matter,” flag-fapping Trumpublican, and I am…NOT those things.
** I feel bad, he’s a “nice guy,” but…no. You are a reminder of a terrible time in my life. That’s not your fault, but it does mean you can’t exist in my world.
Today I learned that my mother weighs herself every day, writes it down, and SAVES IT. I told her that sounds a little unhealthy, and she said, “It’s fine, it’s just that’s one of the only things I can control.”
NOT HELPING YOUR CASE, MA!
They weighed me at the doctor yesterday and it’s more than I’ve ever weighed, by, like, a LOT, so I made the mistake of telling her I need to lose some weight.
“Maybe you and I can do a contest and see who can lose the most weight!”
“Nope. Nooope. Hard pass.”
“Why? I thought that’d be motivation!”
“I am not contributing in any way to you doing that.”
You guys… HOW am I not in an institution?!
BTW, I feel like it’s no coincidence that I’ve gained 25 lbs since January. But fuck THAT — my ass will be great again.
Therapist: “So, if you’ve been able to decide you don’t care what your family thinks about your life, why can’t you apply that thought process to your romantic relationships, rather than reading War and Peace-complex subtext into every interaction?”
Me: “Ummm… because my family are Birthers, and the people I date are not, so it’s not that simple? Divide my bill into minutes — I want a refund for that question.”
During Easter dinner conversation, my aunt said political protests are pointless because, “The election is over. These people just need to move on with their lives.”
Um, BITCH, you’re still salty about some shit my mother said about your potato salad in 1987, so you better hope the new healthcare plans cover legs to stand on.
Damn, man… They aren’t even pretty fly for some white guys.
What’s Missing From This Photo of Politicians Deciding the Future of Women’s Health?
Quotable therapist: “I promise, you don’t hit menopause and automatically become a Republican.”
You heard it here, folks.
I’m too old to be a Handmaid, but fingers crossed I get to be a Martha.
When I first saw today’s headlines giving Kellyanne Conway shit for having her feet on a couch, I thought, “Goddamn, don’t we have more pressing things to fret about? Obama without a jacket, Conway’s feet — you’re so trifling. This is why we can’t have nice things!”
But, um…then I saw the photo in question and… Oh. Oh, honey… *sigh*
I don’t care about your feet on the couch, but damn, girl, get your VAGINA off the couch!
I hope she at least had on Spanx.