Many of you have inquired in the comments sections of various other articles about the status of the relationship between Protagonist and I. I tried to keep it on the down-low after a man who almost exclusively posts Instagrams with his significant other roasted me for trying to make people laugh about my college-aged girlfriend. To answer all of your questions (shout-out to Cube-a-Saurus), yes, she is still
draining my god damn wallet dry and quickening my receding hairline with me, and, by and large, things are going well.
Or, at least, they were going well. She got done with classes and was headed home for a little bit before going down to Texas for the summer, and I was staying up north for work, getting ready to take revenge on something that I hold near and dear to my heart. Outside of the normal struggles that every person struggles with when going back to stay with their parents for an extended period of time after living on their own, she seemed to be doing alright. Obviously, any sort of long distance is hard, but through the help of connecting through Things Girls Do After Graduation and The Bachelorette, and the simple fact that it’s not too long of a drive to see each other, things were going great.
That is, until earlier this week, when, as the title implies, she got a new puppy. A super cute, tiny little light blonde boy chihuahua puppy. I grew up with a chihuahua, and when he died last year, my mom was so heartbroken that she went out and got two chihuahua twins (they look so cute in their Patriots outfits). Now, I’m a big dog kinda guy myself, but I’ll give cute little dogs their due, and her new dog is adorable. Those big eyes, huge floppy ears and a head that’s twice the size of its body: it’s amazing. (Come to think of it, it sounds suspiciously similar to Tyrion Lannister). She is over the moon with this new dog, as she should be. If you have a new, cute, tiny little puppy and you’re not ecstatic about it, you’re a soulless person who probably wants the Cavs to win.
But Very Respectfully, if she’s happy, you should be happy too. That’s the way it works.
I’m sure you’re all saying that to yourselves right now. And trust me, I’m ecstatic that she has this new puppy to dote over so that she doesn’t get annoyed at any of the hundred small things that I normally do that push her buttons. But at the same time, now that she has a new dog, am I even a necessary part of the equation? I understand that she is not dependent on me like the actual Protagonist in Things Girls Do After Graduation is 100% dependent on Todd (and I am so thankful for that). But right now, I’m essentially a second storage space for all of her puppy pictures. She posts them to Instagram. She puts them on her snap story. She uploads them to Facebook. She texts them to me. Wash, rinse, repeat. I’m afraid that when her phone memory inevitably fills up with cute little puppy dog pics, she’ll start calling on me to post these pictures since she can’t take anymore. I don’t know if I can handle that responsibility.
Not only that, but I’m now just a way for her to live tweet updates about her dog without actually tweeting them.
“He only drinks out of my Yeti mug. Like, obviously he’s mine.”
“We’re just grocery shopping in Costco. He’s still in my purse, lol.”
“Did you tell your mom about him? Oh, I’m sure she’ll love him.”
“Oh my god he just pooped. He’s so precious.”
I can barely handle the stress of dating a college girl and all of the emotional rollercoasters that go with that; how am I now supposed to deal with that AND a whole nother, living, breathing animal (this is how I know I’m not ready to have kids; props to all of you guys that do)?
At this point, I could be living in Malaysia, owning a Petyr Baelish-amount of brothels and she would have no idea because it doesn’t involve her dog. I recently went in for a doctor’s visit to talk about my future athletic career, and since it was a decently important appointment, I was expecting some sort of interest into how it went. Instead, after I got done, I opened up my phone to the text:
“I woke up with him asleep under my chin.”
Granted that is super cute to think of this tiny, two-pound dog just curled up under her chin, but it would be nice to for her to ask if my legs will continue to work in six months or if I’ll turn into the 2016 version of Jason Street.
Maybe this is just me being jealous that a new man is in her life, even if he is only two pounds. I mean let’s be real: he’s cuter than I’ll ever be. I should probably just be the bigger man and let her enjoy her amazingly adorable little chihuahua (thankfully she has stopped calling dogs “fur babies.”) But when has being the bigger man ever helped anyone out? So who knows, honey, the next time you come visit me, maybe I’ll have my own super cute new girl in my life. And she may not be a puppy..
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