Things I definitely do not miss:
(Shh, let me cope how I want)
- trying really hard to get into the books you’d lend me instead of just giving up and admitting that the only things we had in common in the book, movie, music category was war movies, Elton John and Queen.
- constantly worrying about having my cats rub up against me or sitting on a piece of furniture that has recently had a cat on it or keeping my clean clothes away from the proximity of cats while at my parents’ house because the tiniest bit of cat hair on my clothing would make you asphyxiate due to your extreme pet allergies. I mean, sure, having cat hair on your clothes isn’t the nicest anyway but at least now I don’t have to OBSESS about it. those things are fuggin cute!
- racing to fall asleep (which is obviously the surest way to keep yourself awake) before you so your snoring wouldn’t keep me up.
- feeling the tiniest pang of guilt for checking out bros. I say tiniest because it’s silly to feel guilty about finding other people attractive, but the pang would never fail to be there.
- worrying about when it was appropriate to casually mention having a boyfriend in a friendly-but-maybe-borderline-flirty conversation with a bro. just in case he was getting the wrong idea! you wouldn’t want to give someone the wrong idea. that makes you a tease. or paranoid. or something.
- trying to figure out birthday/Christmas presents. ugh! what a pain. sure, I love giving a great gift, and most of mine were thoughtful and awesome, but getting there was always so tough. now my mind can go back to focusing on myself. whew.
- cooking for two. okay, maybe that’s not completely true, sometimes I miss it because the one who cooks doesn’t have to clean, but now I can make what I want, when I want, without worrying about it being “good enough”… not because you cared if something was undercooked or overcooked or tasted funny, but because it sucks to fail in front of people, no matter WHO they are.
- pretending to care about how many 26ers you had while drinking with your buddies last night. your breath smells like shit and I don’t even want to know how you managed to get home.
- worrying about you because you decided to walk home from Runnymede station (about an hour and a half walk away) that one time because you were so raging drunk that you couldn’t “handle the subway.” worrying because you didn’t pick up your phone when I called two hours later. three times. finally receiving a phone call as I was standing in my room, car keys in hand, texting one of your friends to help me go look for your drunk ass, which I was sure had passed out somewhere along the way home. smh!
- & I mean, I’m sure there’s others, but let’s quit while we’re ahead.
