I Promise To Never Try To Put You In A Microwave, and other life lessons.

Living with D and her mom has had some interesting effects in my life.  Namely, I drink much less and watch way more awful prime-time television.  In fact, I spent an hour of my life watching The Bachelorette (and basically breaking every promise I’ve ever made about never watching such shit TV), and yelling at the screen… or the moron gracing it.  Seriously, this show is an absolute disaster and their consistent use of grammar as some weird, shallow metaphor was enough to make me repeatedly slap myself in the forehead.  I may have brain damage.  Bad reality television gave me brain damage.  I always said that shit was dangerous.  PROOF!

Hi! I'm an IDIOT. I'm making women look less stable and more frivolous one hour segment at a time.

Anyway, in my own life, I like to think I am far wiser than this dentist-turned-reality-hooker-slash-romantic-retard woman… but we have no evidence of such superiority so I don’t really know.  I’m still whatevering with the Libra.  I say whatevering because I’m trying to be normal and patient and not scare him away I know better than to force some sort of weird name on it just so it makes more sense when I talk about him to my friends, who absolutely love the guy… which is a first.*

My girlfriends hate the guys I date.  And the guys I date never take much of an interest in them which normally is not only irritating but offensive… especially since I take such great pride in friends liking me.  I’m a nice girl, I will buy you a drink and chat you up about your weird job or ugly shoes.  It’s part of the role.  But the guys I date just tell me my friends are “scary” or “party too hard.”  The Libra has been a long time favorite with them- a fact that make him all the more appealing.

There’s a theory about this, one that I heard recently and completely buy into… It says that your friends’ opinions of a significant other are more important generally than your family’s.  This is due to the sheer fact that you choose your friends as some sort of reflection of yourself and your beliefs.  Your family, God bless ’em, you just sort of got put with.  What my family would think of him, who knows.  That’s a bridge I’ll cross when (if) I get there, but my friends being such big fans is reassuring… Given my history of “I think this might be a bad choice but I’ll test it out and figure it out the hard way,” my friends remind me that I’m making a smart (ish?) decision here.  I’m not blindly throwing myself into the wind, I’m not trying to force life or change someone.  I’m accepting it, rolling with it, crossing my fingers with the confidence that I know what I want and for the most part- who he is. 

I’m growing up.  Impressed?  You should be.

In unrelated news, a woman in Sacramento MICROWAVED HER BABY GIRL.  Like she was popcorn.  The baby, obviously, died.  The simple existence of such fucking crazies makes me question my desire to reproduce.  Hell, even marry.  You never fucking know.  Like, did that baby’s daddy recognize that homegirl was literally out of her tree?  She cooked a child.  And then lied.  And then the cops found the pacifier in the microwave and questioned her and she spewed some bullshit about being a schizo.

The world is scary place.  It’s a good thing I’ve got good friends.

*Disclaimer: The Libra knows about this blog.  Whether or not he dislikes himself enough to spend time reading it, I don’t know… But it’s one of those “welcome to my crazy brain” situations.  We’re trying to tone down the crazy*