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Valentine’s Day love story

20-Something, Hipstercrite Life

Love is the Digestive Cacophony of Eating a Large Mexican Meal

note on mirror

a note for my sweetheart- throw up all you’d like

I don’t write about my boyfriend much anymore because it grosses some folks out. Understandably so- I don’t like reading sappy shit either.

Because of this, some dude I know named “Geoff” only comes up occasionally in my blog posts.

But it’s Valentine’s Day, dammit, and I’m going to talk about my lover.

Did the word “lover” just get under your skin there?

Because it most certainly got under mine and I wrote it. Yuk.

Geoff and I will not celebrate Valentine’s Day in any special way today. We will probably go out to eat later tonight which is something we do every night because he has an aversion to eating at home. We might take advantage of Gourmand’s $20 two sandwiches and a bottle of Boone’s Farm deal due to the delightful irony of it. And because we’re small town folk at heart.

We may do something special four days later since that day will be our anniversary. A trip to Enchanted Rock has been in the talks.

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