Proof That I Am Not Ready To Get Married

My friend had to bail on our hip-hop class because her husband was at home, emptying the contents of his stomach into the toilet. Had I been in her position I would have said: “Aww honey. I’m sorry you’re sick. I’ll pick you up some ginger ale and saltines on my way home from dance class.”

And here I thought I was growing up; becoming more mature and less self absorbed. Apparently not.