What I plan to say when someone asks if they can sit next to me on the train:
“Please don’t. I’m feeling claustrophobic.”
What I actually say:
“No.” In a disgruntled tone, preceded by a sigh.
I have no balls sometimes. Mental balls. I never have physical balls.
Also, there are children sitting behind me. Talking. Nonstop.
I can’t wait to have my own children, because if these were my kids, I could say “Be quiet!” And they’d say “Why?” And I’d say “Because I said so.”
I have no delusions that this would actually make them be quiet. I would just take comfort in knowing that at least I’d made the effort.
Or I’d punish them. That’s the worst thing about other people’s children. You can’t punish them.
I recently heard about a young man who died falling off a roof at a St. Patrick’s Day party. A college classmate of mine died trying to jump between roofs.
And I couldn’t help but think “what a dumb, pointless way to die.”
I hope I can become the kind of person who doesn’t think things like that. It doesn’t seem terribly magnanimous, or generous in spirit.
Also, I hope I don’t die in really dumb, pointless way.
(What? Personal growth doesn’t happen all at once).
Q: Married? Single?
A: Domestic partner.
Q: Male or female?
A: …see answer to first question…
Q: Do you ride a bike?
Q: If you do ride a bike, do you wear a helmet?
A: Oh! Yes. I was waiting for the gynecological relevance.
Q: Your ovaries look awesome. They’re perfect.
(Not actually a question, just a good opportunity to brag a little).