-Massage his left shoulder blade slightly rougher than his right. It was injured earlier in his life, so it tends to be a little tighter.
-You know you've really upset him the moment you see him play an imaginary saxophone with his fingers.
-If his right leg is shaking, he's lying to you.
-He stutters when he's nervous.
-His right eyelid drops when he's drunk, but happy.
-DON'T wake him up early on the weekend... or any day for that matter.
-If the car ride is longer than two hours, he's going to hate you for a couple of days.
-Dads are... if you have a cool dad/uncle/cousin/brother, introduce them. He appreciates good male figures, since he lacked one growing up.
-He likes peanut butter. No. He LIKES peanut butter.
-His nickname... he has a lot. His real one? Charmin.
Her: Like the prince!
Or the toilet paper...
Me: Yeah... like the prince.
A year ago today, my heart was crushed.
I officially lost the fight.
I was devastated, and I seriously had no idea how I was going to move on.
I felt embarrassed, stupid, used, ugly... I just wanted to move to some underground tunnel... and never be heard from again.
MGH was my best friend.
He knew me, and I knew him (or so I thought)... perfectly. We were so close...
Had anyone told me then, that I'd be friends with his girl today, I would have... stabbed them.
But I'm seriously OK. We're ok.
I've given her pointers. I told her some things I know about him... I mean, I've known him since he was three... I have volumes on his likes/dislikes... but I did keep some things to myself.
His dad was brutally murdered when MGH was only 13... but he thinks he died in a car wreck.
His dad was the most important Mexican druglord for a few years... he doesn't know that either.
Never make fun of his nipples. He was obese as a kid... and his nipples were... a problem. Never laugh at his nipples.
Whenever his dad came home drunk/coked out of his mind, he would beat him-- and only him-- senseless... for no reason. Needless to say, physical violence is... his trauma. Please never, ever hit him or "play-hit" him.
If you massage the back of his neck a certain way, he'll fall asleep... no, I'm not talking about snapping his neck.
Today I congratulated them on their one year anniversary.
I can't hold a grudge against them for finding each other and falling head over heels for one another. After all, it's thanks to seeing that, that I learned my toughest lesson: when a guy likes you, he'll let you know.
You can play the "he likes me... but we're not official because... he doesn't... like branding stuff" but in the end, call it by what it really is: BULLSHIT.
The moment a guy meets a girl he finds to be... extraordinary, he will do ANYTHING to be with her... and he won't be slow about it.
MGH taught me that.
No, I don't still "love" MGH in the romantic sense... that was killed last year, but I do love him... as in... love him. I'll always hold on to the dear memories we collected over 18 years. The days of us playing in the rio in our underwear... the countless hours of playing tag in the dark... the nights of catching fireflies under the stars... days of having to run into his house, praying Hitler--his dog-- wouldn't maul us to death with his monstrous ex-cop skills... the running in the rain. The dancing, the drinking, the fast driving in his jeep-- hair flying everywhere, the tickling, the hugging... the laughing... God, so much laughing... that will never be forgotten, or belittled.
A year ago today, a part of me died...
but I learned I could keep on living.
Siempre, siempre, siempre... siempre tendrás un lugar en mi corazón, Charmin. Gracias por tantos años llenos de sonrisas. Que seas feliz.
-You know you've really upset him the moment you see him play an imaginary saxophone with his fingers.
-If his right leg is shaking, he's lying to you.
-He stutters when he's nervous.
-His right eyelid drops when he's drunk, but happy.
-DON'T wake him up early on the weekend... or any day for that matter.
-If the car ride is longer than two hours, he's going to hate you for a couple of days.
-Dads are... if you have a cool dad/uncle/cousin/brother, introduce them. He appreciates good male figures, since he lacked one growing up.
-He likes peanut butter. No. He LIKES peanut butter.
-His nickname... he has a lot. His real one? Charmin.
Her: Like the prince!
Or the toilet paper...
Me: Yeah... like the prince.
A year ago today, my heart was crushed.
I officially lost the fight.
I was devastated, and I seriously had no idea how I was going to move on.
I felt embarrassed, stupid, used, ugly... I just wanted to move to some underground tunnel... and never be heard from again.
MGH was my best friend.
He knew me, and I knew him (or so I thought)... perfectly. We were so close...
Had anyone told me then, that I'd be friends with his girl today, I would have... stabbed them.
But I'm seriously OK. We're ok.
I've given her pointers. I told her some things I know about him... I mean, I've known him since he was three... I have volumes on his likes/dislikes... but I did keep some things to myself.
His dad was brutally murdered when MGH was only 13... but he thinks he died in a car wreck.
His dad was the most important Mexican druglord for a few years... he doesn't know that either.
Never make fun of his nipples. He was obese as a kid... and his nipples were... a problem. Never laugh at his nipples.
Whenever his dad came home drunk/coked out of his mind, he would beat him-- and only him-- senseless... for no reason. Needless to say, physical violence is... his trauma. Please never, ever hit him or "play-hit" him.
If you massage the back of his neck a certain way, he'll fall asleep... no, I'm not talking about snapping his neck.
Today I congratulated them on their one year anniversary.
I can't hold a grudge against them for finding each other and falling head over heels for one another. After all, it's thanks to seeing that, that I learned my toughest lesson: when a guy likes you, he'll let you know.
You can play the "he likes me... but we're not official because... he doesn't... like branding stuff" but in the end, call it by what it really is: BULLSHIT.
The moment a guy meets a girl he finds to be... extraordinary, he will do ANYTHING to be with her... and he won't be slow about it.
MGH taught me that.
No, I don't still "love" MGH in the romantic sense... that was killed last year, but I do love him... as in... love him. I'll always hold on to the dear memories we collected over 18 years. The days of us playing in the rio in our underwear... the countless hours of playing tag in the dark... the nights of catching fireflies under the stars... days of having to run into his house, praying Hitler--his dog-- wouldn't maul us to death with his monstrous ex-cop skills... the running in the rain. The dancing, the drinking, the fast driving in his jeep-- hair flying everywhere, the tickling, the hugging... the laughing... God, so much laughing... that will never be forgotten, or belittled.
A year ago today, a part of me died...
but I learned I could keep on living.
Siempre, siempre, siempre... siempre tendrás un lugar en mi corazón, Charmin. Gracias por tantos años llenos de sonrisas. Que seas feliz.
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