I’ll concede the title is a bit much.
Let’s move on…
A Valentine’s Day scribbling:
We’re young.
We spend our money on Wrestling Pay-Per-Views and DVD’s. We go to movies and text friends about them. We MySpace. We lie in bed all day putting off laundry and paying bills. We don’t open mail. We quit jobs because they suck while having nothing else lined up. We watch cartoons and complain about dialogue. We talk about our childhood like it’s so far behind us. We feel old sometimes, like we know it all.
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When I was single, lonely and desperate I told myself that whoever I married was going to get a pretty good deal. So many times had I witnessed countless wives and girlfriends dragging their obviously miserable boyfriends and husbands from store to store shopping; I said I would never do that to my guy. I hate shopping anyway, so I wouldn’t even do that to myself. I’ve been to movies and witnessed the male half of a couple dread going into the theater because he knows he’s in for a force-fed 2 hour estrogen feast. No guy of mine would ever endure that. In essence, I was going to be the cool girlfriend… the kick-ass wife. I told myself I would never talk during football, I would never ask him to hold my purse, I would never in a million years make him go shopping with me and I would never force him to watch a girly flick he clearly had no interest in.
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