I just couldn't take it anymore. I just couldn't. So, I had to do something. Had to!!
I gave SOAPM a stern talking-to. He's making me a neurotic mess with the whole living-in-his-parents'-house thing. And to his defense, he hasn't been living in his parents' house forever or anything like that...he just moved back in this summer...he had been working in the Valley (if you're not from Texas, you probably don't know what the "Valley" is...when you hear that term used by Texans, just think, "Mexico." Becasuse that's what it is, basically). But see, that's not the point!
Point is, all this having to worry about his parents is reminding me of a time that I'd really like to forget: the time when I lived with my parents. The first 17 years of living with my parents really wasn't that bad....but the year before I went to college and the subsequent summers were HELL! I don't want to be reminded of that dark, desperate time. Who would?
So, last night, I really let him have it! I didn't hold back. I told him either he mans up or I'm out.
How's that for tough love? Man, am I awsome.
I am woman, hear me complain.
5 comments:
You are something else, Queenie. I'm not sure WHAT, exactly, but some-thing-else.
What did you tell him, exactly?
I told him that he needs to shape up or ship up.
Trying everything you can to push away the first decent guy you've found in years, eh?
I'm quite impressed. I don't know this guy, but I generally do not trust people that live with their parents. Unless they are children.
Is he a...no, I won't say it.
I really do need to know though.
Is he a (gulp) Momma's Boy?
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