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I mentally applaud Going in Blind. No, an applaud is too tame, I need something more meaningful. I mentally ass slap them, right on the glute, hand to skin, leaving a red mark, a red mark of love. Nothing says thank you like a branded red-slap to the old buttocks.
I always think making friends as an adult is hard, but finding someone to spend the rest of your life with, now that’s the ultimate challenge. There’s so much vulnerability. You have to be strong and confident, but when that’s not your personality, when you embarrass easily, it almost feels like torture, trying to communicate with another adult about your feelings.
Meghan Quinn’s writing is always super relatable
“There’s no way in hell I would be able to say goodbye to you forever tonight. I not only want to see you again, but I need to see you again.”
Woah. Hella hot
well. You’ve consumed me tonight, Noely, and I know if I kiss you, if I feel your lips against mine, there is no way I’d be able to say good night like a gentleman. So, from a distance I will say, thank you for an amazing night. I look forward to our second date.” With a wink, he pulls his phone from his pocket, dials a number, and says, “I’m ready.”
My mind drifts to You’ve Got Mail and one of Meg Ryan’s early emails in the movie where she talks about the excitement of hearing those three little words, “You’ve got Mail.” I feel it. I understand it. The anticipation of waiting for that special person to connect with you again. In an age where instant gratification is the norm, it’s a beautiful thing to have to wait for a little mailbox to light up.
The fact that this whole book has you’ve got mail vjbes and calls them out makes me so happy
Being single is fun . . . for a little bit. But I’ve realized that there comes a time in a person’s life when they just want to be able to have a partner in crime, someone you come home to every night, and wake up with every morning. Someone who cheers during your triumphs and carries you when you fall. And when you see that kind of relationship in real life, playing out in front of you? It’s impossible not to want the same thing for yourself.
Pulling back from my shoveling fork, I lift his utensil to his mouth. “Eat, eat. Enjoy.” I sound like Mrs. Clause telling Santa to get his fill of food. Eat, Papa . . . eat!
Oh my god she’s me.
