We'll dance in the garden, in torn sheets, in the rain.
And so a long (not in a good way) weekend comes to a close. Don’t you hate it when you’re actually relieved the weekend is over? Yeah. Suckass.
That’s not to say that it was without its lighter moments. At one point I was shooting the shit with a female coworker, who was telling me about the guy she’s “kind of” dating. He’s a bar pick-up, rebound-type thing, as she recently ended a serious relationship with another guy. So this new guy sounds pretty cool: he’s a graffiti artist, whose tags can apparently be spotted all over the city. And my coworker is intrigued, to say the least, as she talked at length about him and all the ways he’s different from what she’s usually attracted to.
In the end, she says, she doesn’t really see any future with him, but hey, he’s super cute.
“Well, if he’s a rebound, then that’s all that really matters,” was my supportive reply.
”Yeah,” she says, “As long as I don’t get...”
“Pregnant?” I interrupted.
And she burst out laughing.
“Well, I was going to say ‘attached’ or ‘in too deep’ or something like that, but yeah, pregnant would suck too.”
I ask you: was there ever a clearer illustration of the differences between the male and female brains? I think not.