Twitter Is So Short, It's Safe. I

My Version Of An Irish Exit Has An Air Of Deception To It, Because It Includes My Asking Loudly, “where’s The Bathroom?” And Making Theatrical Looking-around Gestures Like A Lost Foreign Tourist. But Then, Instead Of Finding The Bathroom, I Sneakily Grab My Coat And Leave.

I Work So Hard And So Many Hours, And I've Done That For Years And Years And Years.

I Don't Want To Hear About The Endless Struggles To Keep Sex Exciting, Or The Work It Takes To Plan A Date Night. I Want To Hear That You Guys Watch Every Episode Of The Bachelorette Together In Secret Shame, Or That One Got The Other Hooked On Breaking Bad And If Either Watches It Without The Other, They're Dead Meat. I Want To See You Guys High-five Each Other Like Teammates On A Recreational Softball Team You Both Do For Fun.

I Know A Lot Of People Think Of Me And They Like, Oh That Girl Is Really Sexy, That Girl Is Really Put Together, She Would Never Do Something As Unladylike As A Beet Eating Competition.

When I Have Time To Sit And Reflect On The Different Situations That I Face Every Day, I'll Be Able To Speak More Succinctly About The Challenges As A Woman.