Posts Tagged ‘girlfriend’

Things You Shouldn’t Ask Strangers

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We interrupt our regular scheduled program for a story too good to be true. Yep, this actually happened a few days ago in downtown London. While it’s not the first time someone has simply assumed the girl with Jeff must be his nurse, and likely won’t be the last it happens either, it was definitely the most blunt. Jeff finds it extremely frustrating to have people continually assume the only reason he would be with a girl is if he’s related to her or he’s paying her to keep him alive. The unfortunately side of this experience is the guy did seem genuinely lonely. Maybe he wanted to ask Clara out?

Well anyway, if it makes you feel any better he didn’t actually sulk away…at least not all of the way. He sulked for a few steps until busting out some pretty radtacular Michael Jackson dance moves down Dundas Street. Evidently, Billie Jean was not his lover either.

Things You Shouldn’t Ask Strangers

We interrupt our regular scheduled program for a story too good to be true. Yep, this actually happened a few days ago in downtown London. While it’s not the first time someone has simply assumed the girl with Jeff must be his nurse, and likely won’t be the last it happens either, it was definitely…

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“Oh…That’s So Nice Of You.”

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Yo.  Clara here.

The title of this post is something people occasionally say to me.  Not because I give millions to charity (I don’t) or am an organ donor (I am!  But I’m protective of my organs and will haunt whoever gets them, asking for them back, please) or help old ladies across the street (never) or steal puppies (wait, that isn’t nice…but I’d do it)…et cetera, point is, I’m not that nice.  The nicest thing I’ve done in the past week is probably give a tip at a coffee shop, and even then, I wasn’t actually giving a tip Out Of The Kindness Of My Heart, I just didn’t want a damn penny back.  What does a person do with a penny?  Prop up uneven furniture at best.  Wait.  I should’ve kept that penny.

Anyway.  The title of this post is, for real, wait for it wait for it, what people often will tell me if they get wind of the fact that I am dating someone who uses a wheelchair.  What’s up with that?  There’s nothing nice about me dating Jeff…I’m a horrible girlfriend.  I’m only with him for his sweet downtown digs, obviously.  If there was anything nice about me dating him, it’d be putting up with how he posts it on Facebook every time I drop food in my lap.

Seriously, where do I even live that people tell me it’s “nice” of me to date who I’m dating?  From now on, I’m going to evaluate peoples’ relationships with “oh that’s _____ of you statements”.  Oh, you’re dating a blue-eye? That’s mean of you.  Oh, you’re dating a boy with brown hair?  That’s Irish of you.  Oh, you’re dating a guy in a wheelchair?  That’s a…that’s a bad choice.

Yo.  Clara here. The title of this post is something people occasionally say to me.  Not because I give millions to charity (I don’t) or am an organ donor (I am!  But I’m protective of my organs and will haunt whoever gets them, asking for them back, please) or help old ladies across the street…

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