Y’all are sweet (and reaching and nosy and all of those other things that I love about you).

I guess you’re right, though. I should have thought before putting a picture of me with a boy (who happens to be handsome, married, and my principal) on my blog. Not smart. You people just have entirely too much hope for me.

Newsflash: I don’t play well with men. It’s a character flaw.

OH! And then there are those of you, well one of you, who shall forever remain nameless (*cough*cough* Sisser), who left this very relevant comment on another post:

why in the world would you need a friend with an “is he right for me?” radar when you have a “does he have a ridiculously miniscule flaw that should keep me from liking him?” radar. generally your radar eliminates guys way before any of your friends get to. but for those few you do let slip by, thank heavens i have my “emily, be cereal” radar to make you think straight again. and yes, i said ‘emily’ because that’s usually what i have to call you when you’re not listening and making ridiculous arguments like “but he likes books, and he can write letters, and he likes frisbee” when really he’s the most socially awkward person on the face of the planet and generally just not cool at all. was that mean? maybe i’m bitter too. i mean, be cereal, em. just stick to boys that burn stumps on the weekends. at least they’re cute. or just quit all this dating nonsense altogether and hang out with a sisser. lawd knows i ain’t got no life. we can get a dog.

She’s funny, huh? Funny, honest, gentle. All of those sweet sorts of things that I’m just not.

And she’s probably going to be my roommate forever cause lawd knows we ain’t either one got a life. Or a prayer with the opposite sex.

Yep. We should get a dog.