Monday, April 14, 2008
Good thing one of us is sensitive
Our friend, Lucy, has been going through a rough patch with her roommates. Long story short, they had a party she did not want to happen. She left for the night and came home the next day to piss and puke on the carpet and walls, still uncleaned by said roommates at about 4 PM the next day. She was talking to Phollower, Zoe, and I about it shortly after it happened. She suddenly started to cry. Lucy has never cried in front of me, and I think she does not cry easily. Zoe and I sat there for a minute just looking at her, as if we were dumbfounded with what to do at this point. In case you have not picked it up from Zoe and my blogs, sensitive touchy-types we are not. In fact, she and I have been close friends for years, and I could count on one hand the number of times we have hugged one another. Phollower is so much less emotionally stunted. He rushed in and put his arm around her and comforted her. I, of course, followed his lead. Oh yeah - comforting her, that's what you do with crying people. Why didn't I think of that?
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5 comments:
It cracks me up how much Phollower and my husband are alike.
I was set to give you and Zoe a hard time but the more I think about it, I'm sure I'd react the exact same way. Only difference is, while my husband was comforting the person I'd probably slink off and avoid the situation all together.
Thank god you have Phollower and I have Betty Please to balance us out. And I would never say that you and I aren't sensitive, I think we are both very sensitive (don't tell anyone, OK), we just aren't touchy-feely.
This post explains why you and Zoe didn't comfort me last week.
I cried and cried about our hockey team's loss on Sunday, and you two walked right past me as if I weren't even there.
You cut me deep, ladies, you cut me deep.
o' butter: No, they just thought you were a baby. That's what they told me at least. Besides, it was more than likely just lousy coaching.
And I'm not all that sensitive. Any excuse to cop a feel on a cute french girl is good enough for me. And she didn't say, "Non."
Piss and puke on the walls? what are they, 12 year-olds with the key to Daddy's liquor cabinet and too much peach schnappes?
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