Once a long time ago I was engaged to a beautiful girl. We somehow always work the way we met, what we love, how we spend our days; our story, into one little phrase. She says, "I'm a bartender: he's a chef". I say, "She's a bartender: I'm a chef". She always comes first. We'll blurt it out first chance we get. It's impulsive. The subject of food and beverage comes up in social situations quite often. We express an opinion then drive our expertise home with the old bartender/chef line. Sometimes her. Sometimes me. But, she invented it. Oh, this girl took it to the track, stuffed a bit in it's mouth, and let it run. The first time I heard her say it we were a couple for only about a month. I thought, "That's fucking money. I'm using that". We fell in love quick. Probably our flaw. She was hired at the bar while I was in Germany for a few weeks. I got back and fell head over. We went out for drinks. Bar hopped some center city philly dives. Sang punk rock karaoke. Terribly. I drank a lot. We had been buying each other tequila shots all night. I chugged water from the graffitied bathroom sink to try and get my bearings. I did and we kissed outside the barbary with my back to a telephone pole. After waking up naked on her couch from the sun stabbing me from the full wall window of her apartment, expected her to ask me to leave. "Do you want to go back to sleep in my bed?" Of course I did! We ordered breakfast in bed. A few months later my lease was up and I moved in with her. A few months after that we moved to Mole street. The house is nice. We filled it with skulls and flowers. I got a fancy job at a brand new restaurant. Then, I got promoted. But it's not working. She's a fancy girl. I don't make enough. I lied. In the beginning, I lied. It wasn't a long time ago. It's tonight. I'm losing my best friend tonight. I'm losing my family tonight.
tangentwithtanner
prguitarman
stormborns
dailybridgerton
izzy806
areudirty
