another one bites the dust

In the search for my ridiculously good-looking, fabulously wealthy, gut-bustingly hysterical Prince Charming (with the body of a Greek god, of course) (...is that so much to ask?) (don't judge me), I've dated a lot of toads.

 Ribbet.

I can't possibly go on with this story until I tell you about my friend, Emma.  I love Emma dearly.  She is one of my favorite persons.  Yes, persons.  She and I are, like, totally opposite, but exactly the same. 

Impossible, you say?  Nay...just trust me. 

Or don't. 

What do I care?

 Emma is one of those tell-you-like-it-is kind of gals. 

"Emma, does this dress make me look fat?" 
"The ruffles add body to the widest part of your hips, making you appear wider, so...yes." 

"Emma, I made some cookies.  Do you want one?"
 "They look dry; it appears you've overcooked them, so...no."

Don't get me wrong; the girl means well.  It's not like she goes around popping little kids' bubbles and tying their jump ropes in knots.  She's just extremely literal.  I actually find it quite refreshing.  And completely hilarious.  Think Temperance Brennen (of "Bones").  I mean, Emma was a math major, for crying out loud.  The girl likes her fact-based-conclusions.

(Examining a puppy) "Wow, this adolescent canine is so compact!"

Ok, that's a little extreme.  But, you get my point.

I make that point to make this point: girl does not exaggerate.

So, when she said to me, one day, "Almost every conversation that we have leads to a story you tell that begins with 'So once, I dated this guy...'",  I knew that, in fact, that was a true statement.  Otherwise, she wouldn't have said it.  Emma is very honest, you see.  She wouldn't lie to me.  She's the most honest person I know.  She once walked 7 miles to return 21 cents that a customer overpaid her after she fessed up to cutting down their cherry tree.  Much like Abraham Lincoln.

Errr, something. 

True story.

So, I talk about dudes a lot.  Whatever. 

I do what I want.

We came up with the brilliant plan that I should someday write a book about all of the "toads" I've ever dated.  Because a lot of the stories are actually pretty funny, in our humblest of opinions.  Every chapter would begin with, "So once, I dated this guy...".  And since these toads, who shall remain unnamed, had committed such frightening faux-pas that I was forced to permanently excuse them shortly thereafter, I would name each chapter after it's respective toad's misdeed designation, i.e. "The One-Upper."

Ugh. 

Hate a one-upper.

However, for the sake of being optimistic,  I'm going to assume that I won't continue to date toads for the rest of my life, thus, the book will end with the story of my meet cute with Charming.

...Lord help me. 


Ribbet.