My therapist said to write down everything he’s ever done to hurt me and that didn’t help but realizing the document was 36 pages long did.

ME: How's it look?

MECHANIC LOOKING UNDER MY IMAGINATION'S HOOD: *wiping hands on a rag* I see your problem. You've been filling this thing up with despair when it's supposed to run on joy.

Him: I’ve been in love with you since I was 12. You’re my first childhood crush, getting to make you smile is unreal. I can’t believe we’re talking, I feel so lucky.

Me, with absolutely no recollection of knowing him before but hopefully hiding it well: Aww. I know, right?

I’ve been invited to a memoir writing retreat and everyone who’s treated me badly should be nervous about what comes next.

I think I’m pretty smart but when I asked my last boyfriend why he had a bottle of Pinot Grigio in his fridge when he doesn’t drink that, he said he bought it thinking it was Pinot Noir…and I just…believed that.

An Eazy-E girl in a Taylor Swift world.

I faked that laugh react. I wasn’t HaHa-ing at all.

Skipped the formalities and ate queso with a spoon earlier.

Yay, you’re here!

They should invent men with communication skills.

I didn’t realize TikTok shows follow suggestions with the contact name you have in your phone, so imagine my surprise when the woman my ex cheated with popped up as Vanporker.

I’ve decided that the next time someone says, “I love you,” to me for the first time, I’m going to reply, “You know I think you’re cool as fuck,” just because I think it would be funny.

I can’t remember who I hate so I guess everyone has amnesty unless/until you remind me.

What’s the word for subtweet here? Because I’ve got some targeted stuff to passive aggressively complain about until everyone else arrives.

IT MIGHT TAKE A WHILE FOR US TO FIND THAT

If Twitter starts costing money, I hope I just get a life offline.

(Unlikely.)

I feel like this place is that summer cottage you thought you might visit a few times a year only to end up living there full time when your house burns down.

I’m so glad people find talk therapy helpful and I also very much need them to leave me alone now that I’ve tried it and found it not so helpful.

Freelance clients who try to get me to reduce my rate with the promise of future work are truly failing to understand what motivates me.

Actually, that’s such a good point.

My most recent ex boyfriend was always pushing me to start therapy — I’m only two sessions in and my therapist absolutely hates him. Love that for me.

me: i let my cat drink the bathtub water while i was in it
priest: once again kind of weird but not a sin

The “I love everything about you” to “Here’s a list of 342 aspects of your personality that must change” pipeline is short when dating men.

a fortune cookie with a tiny subpoena inside

Hallmark should make a “Condolences on the loss of the most interesting thing about you (me)” card.

I’m quiet quitting adulthood. It’s just not for me.