My girl

“So, anyways, I’ve met someone…”

Two.

“Oooooh, Danny’s met a chick.”

“No, not a chick. A girl.”

“A babe!”

“Not a babe, and actually, not a girl. She’s a woman.”

“She’s your woman?”

“No, not ‘my woman’, she’s my…”

“Your main squeeze?”

“Nope.”

“She a hottie?”

“No, she’s …”

“She’s not hot?”

“Actually, yes, she’s smoking hot, but no, I wouldn’t call her a hottie. I’ll text you a photo.”

“Your better half?”

“No.”

“Your baby doll?”

“Naw.”

“Boo?”

“Boo yourself.”

“Lover?”

“[Sigh]”

“A friend with benefits?”

“Stop it.”

“Your bitch?”

“Stop it! Just stop.”

“The old ball and chain?”

“How could she be? We just met.”

“A gal? A lady?”

“Yes. Yes, she’s a lady.”

“What’s she like?”

“What is she like? She’s nice. Smart, very smart. Caring. Funny, oh, so funny.”

“Is she hot?”

“Yes, Mom, she’s hot. I sent you a photo.”

“Hold on… don’t hang up… OK … got it. She looks very nice, and natural. I like her already.”

“Me, too.”

How does that make you feel?