My girlfriend Sammie is in love. It’s great, I’m really happy for her. I just wish she would shut up about it sometimes.
It’s not that I mind hearing about it, it’s not that I don’t care about knowing that his favorite color is yellow and when he was 12 he played with trucks; it’s not that I’m not interested in the fact that last Tuesday he said the word “bologna” in a British accent and she thought it was funny; it’s not even that ten minutes after gushing about how great he is she’ll go into a diatribe about how he’s a jerk for talking to his friends instead of her that one time.
And I really don’t care that no matter WHAT we talk about, absolutely everything will inevitably lead back to him.
“Hey Sammie, have you been to the new restaurant downtown?”
“No but Aaron went last week!”
“Sammie I GRADUATED FROM COLLEGE!”
“Oh no way! Aaron goes to college!”
“Hey Sammie, did you know carrots used to be purple?”
“Aaron hates the color purple.”
I don’t mind it. I really don’t care. She can gush all she wants. It’s just, that sometimes, I want to gush too. And I can’t cause I’m too busy pretending to sound at all interested in every detail of what Aaron had for lunch. I just want to scream,
“SHUT UP…..So I can tell you what Jack had for lunch.”