When I was 20, I dated a French guy by the name of Robert (pronounced Roh-Bair, please roll your “r’s”).
Robert liked to say romantic things to me, like:
“I’ll date you until the girl of my dreams comes along.”
“You’re fat.”
“You’re lucky I’m dating you.”
“You’re not really the kind of girl that I want to waste ten bucks on.”
“Move, I’m checking out that girl.”
Oh, young love. How I miss thee.
April 5, 2008 at 4:29 am
ouch! At least it makes for a not-so-funny-but-I’m-going-to-joke-about-it-anyway kind of story.
BTW I’ll be reading the rest of your blog from here I think, I like how it’s starting