It’s official. The perfect relationship exists, and I’m in it.
Are you jealous?
Don’t be, because my significant other is a commercial chain of burrito restaurants. That’s right.
You may have heard of my boyfriend — his name is Chipotle?
I know that in my epic last post, the happy burrito bowl ending was really just a way of saying that eating your feelings can be all it takes to recover from a self-esteem-demolishing, non-air conditioned train ride home next to a hot guy who has rejected you via the Interweb (because who doesn’t that happen to?) — but it has now grown into a full-blown relationship that is two-sided and very real.
How did this happen? Well, Chipotle read the post and has clearly decided that I’m husband material.
Take that, Hot Guy Who Rejected Me.
I don’t know who Joe is, but it’s very likely that I’d be willing to bear his children if the opportunity presented itself.
Many happy returns. If a guy I slept with ever said that to me after sex, I’d legitimately think it was romantic.
And this might be why I need therapy.
(But I’ll probably just keep eating burrito bowls instead.)