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Thursday, December 29, 2005

My cousin, who is nineteen, is dating a retired forty-year-old. She’s a cute and petite girl with a skewed sense of what relationships are like (her mother has been four times), and a rural upbringing. The latter characteristic brings about a lot of situations in which the phrases y’all and fixin’ to are said in a heavy Southern twang. Conversely, he is a meathead who seems to have fallen into some money and has no neck.

For Christmas, her retired boyfriend bought my cousin a Ford Explorer. When he brought over the car, my cousin began jumping up and down screaming, giggling, and clapping her hands.

“I got a good one! I got a good one!” she enthused. Her mother hugged her, smiling.

“Ford Explorers aren’t that great,” I remarked to my sister, who was standing nearby. “Besides, I think it’s used.”

“I don’t think she’s talking about the car,” my sister replied. “She’s saying she got a good boyfriend.


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