Dear Diary - Mean Girl

 

Dear Diary

I am a mean person.  

It's my sense of humor.  

Direct, outrageous, provocative.

Basically, if I say something utterly ridiculous, you ought to know I'm kidding.

Little by little, over the years, Fluffy Bear has got used to my wacky ways.  But, now and again, I can still get him.

A year or so ago, I put a very sad, concerned face on and sat down next to my husband on the couch.

 "I really didn't know how to tell you what I have to say," I said softly, "so I bought you this."

Quietly, I handed him a greeting card.

He took it out of the envelope, and turned it face up.

"I'm pregnant" it read.

He didn't say anything.  

He didn't look at me.

He slowly opened the card.

"Just kidding!" it said on the inside.

He didn't move.

At that moment, I was gripped by fear.  

Maybe, for once, I'd gone too far.  

What if he jumped up and hugged me, bursting into tears of happiness?  I mean, holy shit, I didn't want kids!  He didn't want kids!  Did he?

He let out a half-yell, half-guffaw, and whacked me on the arm with the card.

I breathed a sigh of relief, starting to laugh too.

I'd got away with it!  But, maybe, a little less nutty next time.

Then again, whoever designed that card is also clearly a bit of a nutjob, so I'm not alone...