maturity

There comes a time as you get older when you’re able to accept certain truths. When you find your husband and his good friend/houseguest playing video games on the computers in the den, and they say they’d like to go out for lunch, and once upon a time you would have believed them, except now you know enough to take this to mean, We would like to play video games all day, although in a kinder, gentler world this would not be so, and we would make a merry foursome at lunch and talk about meaningful things and revel in the warmth of our friendships, but as it is we will say whatever we need to say to make you go away so we can continue to play these video games and what was it you said again? What? I couldn’t hear you over the sound of my BFG blasting away these mutant Nazi alien monster zombies…

So you poach some eggs and assemble your version of egg mcmuffin sandwiches and leave a plate of them beside the computers, because you have the feeling that your husband and friend would gnaw their own flesh rather than break from their playing to go scrounge for something so silly as food, and you would prefer for them not to do that, and take your husband’s good friend’s wife out for the lunch that your men can barely remember pretending to agree to want to go to.

Happy cult of the bunny, everybody.

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