Me: I guess I’m just nervous that I’m going to die alone and I wouldn’t even have cats because I’m allergic.
Mom: I think once you’re involved in more things, you’ll meet more people.
Me: Mom, what the fuck do you want me to get involved in to meet men?
Mom: Intramural sports?
Me: Let’s not forget the great volleyball disappointment of 2004 when I tried out for five volleyball teams, had a private coach, and didn’t make one. Or the basketball mishap of 2000, during which I scored a basket for the other team. Or when I did handstands in the goal of my youth soccer games and got hit in the face with the ball.
Mom: I think you’ll meet someone in Target. You should go to Target tonight. And like, drop a cereal box and maybe a man will pick it up and you’ll get married.
Me: …………… What happens if no men pick it up?
Mom: Keep dropping things until one of them does?
Me: I’m jumping off a cliff.
Mom: Look honey, you know it’s going to happen when you least expect it.
Me: Mom, I never fucking expect it because I feel ugly most days and I think that all started because you made me go to a personal trainer in Middle School.
Mom: You can just live with your step dad and I when you’re older you so you won’t be alone when you die.
