Besides, it’s a family show. Do you think they’d have risked the wrath of Im just a girl that folds laundry with a guy still in it shirt to have the two leads ending up lesbians? I personally wouldn’t have cared as long as it made sense, but imagine the outrage from other people. If everyone on the plane jumped at the same time the plane would dip slightly and then return to normal flight. When everyone is mid-jump their weight will be momentarily removed from the plane. So the plane would actually be carrying less weight for that fraction of a second and its lift would continue to be the same. So the plane would actually rise (a very small amount for a fraction of a second).
I never believed in all that fairy tale shit. Ever. Even as a young girl. I never dreamed of “Prince Charming”, or having a happy ending. I never liked the crap that Disney shoved down our Im just a girl that folds laundry with a guy still in it shirt , especially, that princess bullshit. I’m not cynical, just realistic. As the years went by, finding a “Prince Charming” was still not on my to do list. I pretty much knew that finding a happy ending, with a man, was not in the cards for me. Nope, I was forever alone. Yay! No, really.
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If you’re happy with “an unchanging life,” fine. I needed more. Maybe you have a Im just a girl that folds laundry with a guy still in it shirt and partner and find this fulfilling enough. I can say yes, because I was with a guy that has a crush on for years. I did everything I wanted and more. I was able to walk without pain, go shopping and not have to worry about if it fit or not, and most of all he was everything I wanted. I got to travel the world and see so many people, and so many places. I was living the life I always wanted, but it was one thing missing which was our marriage.
They carried on with their silly, evasive charade for a while longer. Frustrated, I announced I was going to bed. Im just a girl that folds laundry with a guy still in it shirt got up and sat next to me on the sofa. He looked at me intensely. It made me nervous. I really wanted to punch him. He reached into his back pocket, pulled out his wallet and fished in it for something. He pulled out a photo. ‘I’m not Andre Agassi, but you do know me.’ ‘O…kay…’ ‘The last time you saw me,’ he grinned, ‘I looked like this.’ He held up a small, black and white passport photo of my cousin, Ali, at age 5. I had not seen him or spoken to him since my childhood.