Monsieur Célibataire
Today, it was the last day of school. My students shared what they thought of me. Expecting to hear wonderful things, all of their complaints can be summed up in a few words: I'm a liar, a killer of dreams, I need to grow up, and I was a big disappointment to them. I'm a first-year teacher. FML
Today, my girlfriend refered to her vagina as a meat wallet, and to my penis as small change. FML
Today, I held hands with the boy I like. Without thinking, I commented that his right hand is softer, as if he only used lotion on that one hand. And then we stood there in terribly awkward silence. FML
Today, my wife shaved her pubic hair in a way that it looks like Hitler's mustache. She won't stop referring to it as "the Clitler". FML
Today, I walked into the living room to find my 11-year-old daughter about to kiss her "not my boyfriend" on the lips. When I asked what she thought she was doing, she peeled a piece of scotch tape off her lips and said, "It's okay! We're using protection." FML
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