I’m Still Not Convinced You Aren’t a Bed Bug
I know you’ll say the same thing you always say.
We’ve talked about this before.
“How could I be a bed bug?” you ask. “Are bed bugs swathed in the latest from Zac Posen? Do bed bugs drench themselves in Chanel no 5 and meet you for brunch on the first Saturday of each month, always ordering the beignets? How could I possibly be a bed bug? Would a bed bug order the beignets?”
And yet something doesn’t pass the sniff test.
Maybe it’s because your persona so closely resembles the kind of persona a bed bug attempting to avoid detection would select.
And there’s the time you butt dialed me. I know what a normal butt dial sounds like. This was different. An awful lot of clicking for someone who claims they were “having their nails done at the time”.
Then there was the following exchange under your facebook profile pic:
Josh: “Looking hot for a bed bug, Janine!”
You: “OMG, Josh. I am not a bed bug! Anyways, the name ‘bed bugs’ is offensive. The preferred term is ‘cimex lectularius’. xoxo”
That was suspicious.
Sometimes after we meet I get a little itchy.
Please don’t cry. I’m not trying to be a dick. But last time I got a little rash. Just the hint of one.
It’s fine if you’re a bed bug. It really is. I’m not a judgmental type and I know there’s room in the world for all kinds of different folks. There’s room in my life for you, either way.
But honesty is important.
And I’d like to know.
Either way, you can’t come over to my place this evening. Because I’m fine hanging out with a bed bug in a cafe, but letting you near my actual bed? Well, that wouldn’t be very smart of me.
Plus there are enough of your friends here already.