Saturday February 9, 2013
Chicken Soup for the Golfer’s Soul
I’ve been holding it in. My pee. I know that sounds gross but if you had asparagus for dinner then you would understand and you would be holding in your pee as well. Whatever. Pee once a day, that’s fine. Except it’s NOT fine and I know the more I go the less the asparagus thing will bother me…
He might get lucky. I’m talking about Adam. He might accidentally whack his head off the corner of the table that sticks out in the dining room and suffer a mild concussion, and then some sort of short term memory loss. Or better: long term. Then he’d forget that I was a little bit of a crazy and he’d never stop loving me. Is that a thing? Any of this? Like, I want to know if anyone has ever had to wish an injury on a loved one so they would forget how weird their partner is. He picked me, or something like that, whatever, so. It’s partially his fault. He could have asked me before we went out the first time if I had anything weird about myself that I wanted to tell him. And yeah, if I were trying to be honest, I would have said something like, mmhm, some things. Here and there, might be deal breakers, not sure. And he’d have had the chance to ask more specific questions and then I could tell him then and there that I don’t like peeing when I’ve eaten asparagus, and therefore don’t really enjoy eating asparagus, and also that when I was 6 I locked my baby cousin in a dark room to make him cry so that when I finally opened the door, he would cling to me because I “saved him”. I could have told him all my things in one shot and he could have decided early on about me.