When I stroll through Times Square a single bump on the shoulder sets me off. It’s like a switch is turned on and I transform into the Tasmanian Devil. When my boo, Stephen, tells me I need to chill or calls me crazy (which drives me even more insane) I simply say, ”well, maybe people should stop annoying me. I’m not angry. I’m just pretty damn passionate!” (End with dramatic hair flip.)
Then there was The Cookie Incident. My uterus felt like it had been stabbed by a million razor blades and I felt as bloated as a pig. All I could think about were Subway’s Raspberry Cheesecake cookies – the best! And spending time with Stephen, of course. After the Subway run, Stephen and I found the perfect bench at the park under the shade. I quickly ran to it before anyone else sat down. We began to chat and I grabbed a cookie from the bag and raised it to my mouth. Stephen then snatched the cookie from my hand and ate it in just one bite before laughing hysterically.
I looked forward to that moment all day and he absolutely ruined it. I sat there thinking of one million ways to murder him.
Instead of soothing me he pulled out his phone, recorded my reaction and posted it on social media. I swear I felt smoke fuming through my nose and ears. I said every cuss word imaginable.
It was supposed to be a joke. But I don’t usually take those very well, and that’s my problem. It all started in middle school where I was bothered and bullied the most. Comments about my hair, my “big head” or my acne (puberty stages!) really got to me. Plus, Mami always said, “If something or someone is bothering you, you better say something.” Since then, I get very defensive about almost everything.
Surprisingly, after seeing the video he posted online I couldn’t help but laugh. That’s all Stephen tries to do, get me to laugh. He is goofy and I’m always too serious. Or so he says. Time and again Stephen tells me to stop taking life so seriously. He’s right. Sweating the small stuff isn’t worth it. There’s no need to destroy everything in sight over a damn cookie. I mean, who gets mad over a cookie? The more I think about it, the more absurd it sounds.
So I’m taking Stephen’s advice. I am trying to tone down the crazy and watching my temper. I take deep breaths and think before reacting. And I no longer explode like a ticking time bomb when Stephen devours my favorite cookies.