Did some spring-cleaning yesterday to prep for moving, and came upon this:
This is how R asked me to be his girlfriend. With a card.
What are we, kindergarten children?
Even my first boyfriend (or more aptly my first “stead”) Gabriel at 16 years old knew how to take me to East Coast Park and ask me in person whether I want to be his “stead”. Back in 1997.
That word “stead” has thankfully been phased out like the translucent Giordano windbreakers.
(And just in case you’re wondering, Gabriel and I never even held hands. I was 14 years old, bespectacled and was clueless as fuck. Okay?)
Just when you think the card itself is bad… read the contents. Lol.
This one is clearly a narcissistic self-absorbed asshole, but I completely failed to see it. Or perhaps I was in denial, who knows? I did not have a good feeling about the guy, but I thought maybe I was just cynical & bitter, and so decided to give him the benefit of the doubt. #lessonlearnt
Gut instincts are always right.
The proper way to do it is to ask in person, “Will you be my girlfriend?” Its not that difficult. Also a bouquet of flowers never hurt anybody. (Size does not matter. Seriously.)