Obviously I wrote this one before someone actually agreed to date me (I’m as shocked as you are):

“Everyone does weird shit when they’re a little kid and don’t know any better. Or even when they do know better and just choose to rebel against society’s (their parent/guardian’s rules). Seriously, EVERYONE does. So don’t try to bury the weird ass things that you’re lying to yourself and everyone else about by saying you ‘don’t remember’ and just wait to be humiliated when one of your parents brings it up when they have just a little too much wine at the next social gathering. OWN IT NOW SO THEY CAN’T WIN. Though honestly, I can’t wait to partake in those contests I’ve convinced myself parents have, known as “You think YOUR kid is weird? Listen to what MINE does/says/eats/watches/poops, etc.” Because I know my kid will be a weirdo. Because nothing I give birth to and raise could be anything but. And that makes me very happy. Let’s just hope they get their dad’s… okay my future dude is such a mystery that I don’t know what to put here. Talent for riding a unicycle? I totally could have kids with a guy who rides a unicycle, right? Unless that line of work like, infringes upon his reproductive skills. Honestly, it looks kinda painful. Like, if I were a guy I’d rather have seven year old Emily come and knee me in the nuts than ride one of those things. Anyway. I’m drifting.”