Living in L.A. = Death of Romance

flowers aren't even allowed

flowers aren’t even allowed

L.A. Pandemic! Yikes! L.A. Guys are coming down with the infectious slug that KILLS Romance! It’s devastating… DEV.A.STATING! Beeeeeeyond! I can’t even read the obits. Like young women everywhere — from Santa Monica to Burbank — I’m mourning silently… Say it ain’t so! But it is so — it’s sooooo so. The signs — they’re there…

SOB-SOB!

The 5 Signs of Death in Romance

1. Loss of Appetite –

The GUY: “I’m not that hungry, wanna share something?”
The Girl (silent): “Too stingy to pay for two meals, huh?”

2.  Labored Breathing –

The GUY: “Hey babe, wanna hook up?”
The GIRL (silent): “And why do I already feel fucked?”

3.  Excessive Fatigue and Sleep –

The GIRL: “You didn’t answer my text last night, what happened?”
The GUY: “I was wiped and uh crashed early.
The GIRL (silent): “Uh-huh, right and how was she?”

4. Mental Confusion or Disorientation –

The GIRL: “You mentioned doing something this weekend, what’s the plan?”
The GUY: “Oh, uhm, uhhh I’m thinking of going to a Phish concert in New York, didn’t I tell you?
The GIRL (silent): “Shouldn’t you have outgrown that like ten years ago?”

5. Speaking Decreases and Eventually STOPS all together –

He’s unavailable to speak in-person —
Phone calls disappear —
Texts wane and…
You get the picture, right?
I’m thinking of moving —
to a different city —
on a different continent —
in a different era!
Ugh!

former romantic optimists

former optimistic romantics

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I’M A SLAVE IN E.R.!
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