My lack of emotional maturity enables me to have completely fulfilling relationships with bottles of alcohol and fictional characters.
I’M SORRY BUT THE ONLY PEOPLE I CAN TALK TO ABOUT FOOTBALL LIVE IN BRAZIL/THE UAE/ THE UK AND THEY ALL CALL IT FOOTBALL SO I AM IN THE HABIT
I’m a douche I’m a douche I’m a douche.
But it IS football.
People calling it soccer make me do this:
omg that gif
fjdshfjkdhfljk I can’t even.
Me: “So, we can grill and then go to the gym and then go swimming?”
Mom: “Well…we could do that…or we could stay home, watch Will and Grace, and get hammered.”
at least the hot, put together, grown-ass woman in me is confident…
The neurotic me who doesn’t shave her legs more than once a month and is more like Liz Lemon than I’d like to admit is terrified.
NERVOUS NERVOUS NERVOUS.
I’ve only seen him once since he moved away (right after we broke up) and I was definitely the more put-together party. I’m afraid that I’ll look like a total wreck and it’ll be like “haha now look who can’t move on?” because I haven’t dated anyone since we broke up (over a year ago). Last summer I wrote him this letter spilling all of my deep dark feelings for him and he IM’ed me and said “…uh, thanks for the letter” and that was the only time he ever brought it up.
It’s not like I think we’re going to date again or anything, I know that that’s never going to happen. But, seeing old flames has a tendency to rekindle that fire, at least for me…and I don’t want that to happen.