Peace Corps

In which t is a coward

You might ask yourself, what is Theresa doing in her office at six o’clock on a Sunday evening? The short answer is typing up my novel. The long answer is hiding. That’s right. I’m HIDING. Turns out, Darling Heroine is a coward. [edit]Descretion is the better part of valor! :-D[/edit]

I swear to God, even at my lowest moments in college (yeah, I’m lookin’ at you, Silverman), it was never this ridiculous. I mean, it’s cute and all the first few times, but really. What. The. Fuck. And why does every man here think that he’s going to be the one to change my mind?

“No, I’m not going to get married while I’m here.”
“Two years is an awful long time.”
“I don’t think so. I’m planning on living to be at least eighty. Two years isn’t that long at all. At most, I’ll be 24 when I leave.”
“So you’re saying it’s impossible.”
“Not impossible, just unlikely.”
“And you won’t marry an African.”
“No, I can’t imagine. Well-educated African men who don’t want children, are willing to marry an American but not (and possibly never!) live in the United States, and who aren’t PUSHY OBNOXIOUS BASTARDS are relatively hard to find.” (this is actually not true, there are lots of great men over here; however, they’re not the ones currently knocking down my door)
“But if you found one?”
“Well, I’d probably still say no, because I’m contrary like that.”
“How educated is well-educated?”
“A university degree.”
“I have the BAC!”
“That, my friend, is the rough equivalent of a high school diploma.” (although to be fair, it’s relatively rare, over here.)
“Well, maybe you’ll change your mind.”
“No, I don’t think so.”
“Why don’t you go out with me sometime?”


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