Recently, a friend’s now ex-girlfriend said to him, “You act more like a 15-year-old girl than a 30-year-old man.”

I find her insult unnecessarily cunty given she was wearing a “Sexy Bat Woman” costume like a 15-year girl might wear at a high school Halloween party to impress the seniors.

After hearing her jibe, I found myself wondering, “What the hell does that even mean?” My friend was exceptionally well behaved that night. If he had ignored her or caused drama at the party I could see the justification in her analysis, but he didn’t. He swooned over her all night just like most guys who are really into a girl. Games of quarters and shit talking abound for a few hours. Could that be it? I would hope not because she was doing those things with us. The night was fun for all, except her, apparently.

Since her statement lacked validity I think the proper interpretation of her disparaging remark is, “Hello My Pet. My life is passing like a kidney stone, because I can’t find the joy in little things. Happiness is only a dream for me so I must do what I can to take yours. I find myself irrepressibly boring.

I need you or someone or anyone, really, to give me meaning. Your life seems fluid and fun and I don’t have a good core group of friends to help me with the breathing and living that you do so seamlessly. I am jealous. And this is my best attempt to fill my vacant self-worth. Kinda sad, right? Please try your best to brew on my words (even though I know you won’t) and let it cut you deep because I have nothing else.”
In closing,
Fuck the haters. Enjoy your life. Eat more pasta.