I have long suspected that I am the “goofy best friend” character in a terrible romantic comedy.
Evidence? Why, sure. Here are the events of my past week:
break up with boyfriend—> feel really good about breaking up with boyfriend as things were very pleasant—> feel so good, in fact, that immediately tell mom about this—> awesome, but pretty traditional mother who LOVED now-ex-boyfriend bursts into tears—> instead of handling things like an adult, immediately conjure up a big explanation as to why we’re not “really” broken up and that we’re “definitely still dating, really” and “for the love of pete, mom, stop crying, WE’RE TOGETHER I SWEAR”—> call Caleb and explain that he now needs to lie to my parents about our dating—> he agrees (without even a question-is he that used to this now?)—> am now living a lie that will probably have to go to great lengths to avoid being found out.
This is almost as bad as that time I scheduled two dates at the same time in the same restaurant and had to run back and forth between the two all night!
