look, I’ll be the first to admit I’m clumsy at relationships. I’ve been living out of a backpack and ordering foods in bad accents for over a decade and I guard my independence with such violent defense mechanisms, you’d might even think I was selfish and immature…

but I assure you, stupid-face, I am not.

so when I fell for a girl with strawberry-blonde hair and a Canadian accent, I should have known that a certain few things were going to have to be compromised. and if I didn’t know it when I fell for her, I should have seen it coming when she started making ridiculous demands like refusing to go #2 in my little boat’s toilet.

which was a perfectly fine bucket.

then food came up. and of all the things I do not vibe with [belly-buttons, wicker, black ghosts], someone coming in between me and my vittles tops that list.

yet, a certain voice told me that perhaps actually listening to someone else’s suggestion for dinner wouldn’t be a bad thing. granted, that voice was Josie’s, but it still resonated.

so I listened to her enter Thai fare up against my need for some good Vietnamese pho.

and then compromised on the only way I knew how.

we sold everything we could and flew to Bangkok for a week…

then moved to Saigon.

and you said I couldn’t handle a grown-up commitment.