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What annoys me to no end is how people overuse the word “love” to accentuate something. You may enjoy a nice cup of tea, heck you may really enjoy it, but when people go so far as to say they ‘love’ a cup of tea then the word is being overused. It pains me to see box-glasses-wearing emo kids crying about how hard it is being 14 and in love with someone they met on AOL chat, or when mini-chavs vow to their 9-year-old, probably-pregnant chavinas that they love them.
Perhaps I am slightly old fashioned in this view, but I told myself I’d never use the word love unless I meant it. I know more than a handful of guys who have used the immortal L-word in order to sleep with someone, which is, in my opinion, a form of emotional fraud.
I don’t know if you remember my panic-attack when my mentally challenged ex-girlfriend told me on the eve of our break-up that she loved me and wanted to have my babies. It almost tripped off my tongue, “I love you too” but I assessed the situation and realised I only wanted her D-cup warriors and not emotional baggage and found the exit door to the relationship. It wasn’t one of those scared-of-commitment things, perhaps more of a scared-of-psycho-girl things.
However a recent revelation in my life has caused me to use the L-word and mean it. I’m actually in love, and it’s all gay and soppy and mushy like in the films. I didn’t plan for it, it just sort of happened. Then I waited a while, and it was still there, and then it leapt out of my mouth like the chest-burster thing from Alien and the ‘I love you’ was returned (I’d have cried like a McDonalds worker on payday if she hadn’t said it back).
So I’m all grinny and happy and sexed up and for the first time ever I’m not all angsty and stuff, and I can look back on my depressive life-is-so-hard fluffy-bard-collar days and giggle slightly.
I’m not sure if there’s a moral to my story, or indeed if it is a story at all, just wanted to vent. Happily vent, for once.
Perhaps I am slightly old fashioned in this view, but I told myself I’d never use the word love unless I meant it. I know more than a handful of guys who have used the immortal L-word in order to sleep with someone, which is, in my opinion, a form of emotional fraud.
I don’t know if you remember my panic-attack when my mentally challenged ex-girlfriend told me on the eve of our break-up that she loved me and wanted to have my babies. It almost tripped off my tongue, “I love you too” but I assessed the situation and realised I only wanted her D-cup warriors and not emotional baggage and found the exit door to the relationship. It wasn’t one of those scared-of-commitment things, perhaps more of a scared-of-psycho-girl things.
However a recent revelation in my life has caused me to use the L-word and mean it. I’m actually in love, and it’s all gay and soppy and mushy like in the films. I didn’t plan for it, it just sort of happened. Then I waited a while, and it was still there, and then it leapt out of my mouth like the chest-burster thing from Alien and the ‘I love you’ was returned (I’d have cried like a McDonalds worker on payday if she hadn’t said it back).
So I’m all grinny and happy and sexed up and for the first time ever I’m not all angsty and stuff, and I can look back on my depressive life-is-so-hard fluffy-bard-collar days and giggle slightly.
I’m not sure if there’s a moral to my story, or indeed if it is a story at all, just wanted to vent. Happily vent, for once.
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What annoys me to no end is how people overuse the word “love” to accentuate something. You may enjoy a nice cup of tea, heck you may really enjoy it, but when people go so far as to say they ‘love’ a cup of tea then the word is being overused. It pains me to see box-glasses-wearing emo kids crying about how hard it is being 14 and in love with someone they met on AOL chat, or when mini-chavs vow to their 9-year-old, probably-pregnant chavinas that they love them.
Perhaps I am slightly old fashioned in this view, but I told myself I’d never use the word love unless I meant it. I know more than a handful of guys who have used the immortal L-word in order to sleep with someone, which is, in my opinion, a form of emotional fraud.
I don’t know if you remember my panic-attack when my mentally challenged ex-girlfriend told me on the eve of our break-up that she loved me and wanted to have my babies. It almost tripped off my tongue, “I love you too” but I assessed the situation and realised I only wanted her D-cup warriors and not emotional baggage and found the exit door to the relationship. It wasn’t one of those scared-of-commitment things, perhaps more of a scared-of-psycho-girl things.
However a recent revelation in my life has caused me to use the L-word and mean it. I’m actually in love, and it’s all gay and soppy and mushy like in the films. I didn’t plan for it, it just sort of happened. Then I waited a while, and it was still there, and then it leapt out of my mouth like the chest-burster thing from Alien and the ‘I love you’ was returned (I’d have cried like a McDonalds worker on payday if she hadn’t said it back).
So I’m all grinny and happy and sexed up and for the first time ever I’m not all angsty and stuff, and I can look back on my depressive life-is-so-hard fluffy-bard-collar days and giggle slightly.
I’m not sure if there’s a moral to my story, or indeed if it is a story at all, just wanted to vent. Happily vent, for once.
Perhaps I am slightly old fashioned in this view, but I told myself I’d never use the word love unless I meant it. I know more than a handful of guys who have used the immortal L-word in order to sleep with someone, which is, in my opinion, a form of emotional fraud.
I don’t know if you remember my panic-attack when my mentally challenged ex-girlfriend told me on the eve of our break-up that she loved me and wanted to have my babies. It almost tripped off my tongue, “I love you too” but I assessed the situation and realised I only wanted her D-cup warriors and not emotional baggage and found the exit door to the relationship. It wasn’t one of those scared-of-commitment things, perhaps more of a scared-of-psycho-girl things.
However a recent revelation in my life has caused me to use the L-word and mean it. I’m actually in love, and it’s all gay and soppy and mushy like in the films. I didn’t plan for it, it just sort of happened. Then I waited a while, and it was still there, and then it leapt out of my mouth like the chest-burster thing from Alien and the ‘I love you’ was returned (I’d have cried like a McDonalds worker on payday if she hadn’t said it back).
So I’m all grinny and happy and sexed up and for the first time ever I’m not all angsty and stuff, and I can look back on my depressive life-is-so-hard fluffy-bard-collar days and giggle slightly.
I’m not sure if there’s a moral to my story, or indeed if it is a story at all, just wanted to vent. Happily vent, for once.
Paradox: wrote:
>*etc.,etc.*
>I’m actually in love, and it’s all gay
>*etc.,etc.*
Jees. What a way to come out.
>*etc.,etc.*
>I’m actually in love, and it’s all gay
>*etc.,etc.*
Jees. What a way to come out.
Lol.
I really should stop using "gay" as a synonym for "soppy"
I really should stop using "gay" as a synonym for "soppy"
I think HATE is an over-used word...
Yet I literally HATE it when people go on about how they're inlove - Lucky B*******
Yet I literally HATE it when people go on about how they're inlove - Lucky B*******
U ok hun?
Nah - I'm giving up, calling it quits, throwing in the towel...
Wuss
You should be more like 'Dox viewpoint: "girlies give me cooties but i luv dem juggliez".
You should be more like 'Dox viewpoint: "girlies give me cooties but i luv dem juggliez".
I dunno...
Part of me thinks she knows I like her. That very thought haunts me - the thought that she knows and didn't even hear it from me.
Part of me thinks she knows I like her. That very thought haunts me - the thought that she knows and didn't even hear it from me.
There's only one thing to do: Hide in seclusion for a decade or two and think about what you could've done differently. Go for it!
Damnit girls, you're a confusing breed. I'm flirting a lot now with two others. One, Jo, boyfriend in the army who she barely sees. The second, Lucy, single as far as I'm aware but best friends with the girl I've liked for a while.
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