First let me apologize to my coworkers who read this…let’s be sure to never discuss.
I am turning 30 in a few months and I watch the Bachelor, with my dog, faithfully. Every time I watch that damn show, I get depressed and pathetically nostalgic. I feel soooo ooooold and soooooo married and boooooring. Watching these young things with their firm bodies and fluttering hearts is just too much to bear.
So internally I go bitter old married chick and I chortle–yes, chortle–“Wait until she has kids Jake, then let’s see if she’d even consider the fantasy suite with you” or sappy windbag “I remember when Jeremy and I made out for hours on end until our lips got chapped (or other things…)
Harumph. And, he should pick Tenley.