I woke up this morning a legally single girl, so yes, there was some celebrating last night. As I pried open my eyes and tried to ignore the classroom-sized globe of pain that seemed to have lodged itself behind my eyes and in my gray matter (which is quite uncharacteristic for me), I realized I sort of, well, time traveled to that point. I stumbled to the bathroom, evacuated the swill from the night before from my bladder, gobbled a couple Tylenol (who am I kidding; non-asprin generics), and shuffled back to the bed. My boyfriend opened his eyes and bid me a good morning with that sort of look that meant I was about to receive some verbal souveniers of my little time travel. Uh oh.
"Didja have fun last night, honey?"
I just decided to own up to whatever embarrassing escapade I made myself the center of. Besides, I figured it would throw him off. "You have a rediculous girlfriend."
All of us have those nights that we just let loose, have a few too many, and end up time traveling. For the uninitiated, 'time traveling' is what you do when you remember up to a point of your night before... and then you wake up in the morning. It's ok, and don't fret. Just know that you'll more than likely find out exactly what you did via camera phone pictures or innuendo on Facebook statuses. Or your better half will gleefully fill you in on your mini vacation from the land of the coherent and concious.
Which is what B did, further propaganding that he, in fact, has a rediculous girlfriend.
(Thank you, B, for loving me no matter what. You are an absolute angel with the strongest shoulders of anyone I know.)
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