I’m not talking about the C-word here, or the F-word or B-word or whatever other letter-dash-words there are. I’m talking about the word Lover. Say it slowly. Lover. You know what’s even worse? Made Love. Last night I Made Love to my Lover. I just threw up. Sensuous. Moist. Sepulveda. (Don’t ask, that one came from a co-worker) Last night My Lover Made Love to my Sensuous Moist Sepulveda. (I’m starting to understand Sepulveda).
This brings me to an awkward encounter I had at a pet store. My boyfriend and I were buying a few things for the dogs and the cashier asked if I had the store’s discount card. I don’t, but my parents do so I gave her their phone number.
Cashier: So you must be Linda (my mom)?
Now I probably could have explained that Linda and David are my parents, but being the awkward person I am I decided it made more sense to lie.
Me: Yes. Linda. It is true. That is my name. I am Linda.
Cashier: (to my boyfriend) And you must be her husband, David?
Boyfriend: No. I’m her lover.
I think I laughed maniacally at this point and then broke down in gibberish noises, although I’m not sure because everything went black for a while. Needless to say the cashier was very confused. I tried to make it better by saying:
Me: David is my father.
That did not make it better. Somehow that brought up images of incest and other gross things. I left the store in shame. My boyfriend was laughing.
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