Maybe We've Grown Out Of Each Other.

There's Something Unnatural About A Woman Finding Babies Or, More Specifically, Conversation About Babies, Boring. They'll Think She's Bitter, Jealous, Lonely. But She's Also Bored Of Everybody Telling Her How Lucky She Is, What With All That Sleep And All That Freedom And Spare Time, The Ability To Go On Dates Or Head Off To Paris At A Moments Notice. It Sounds Like They're Consoling Her, And She Resents This And Feels Patronized By It.

She Made You Decent, And In Return You Made Her So Happy

I'm Not The Consolation Prize, Dex. I'm Not Something You Resort To. I Happen To Think I'm Worth More Than That.

I Would Never Complain About One Day Taking Off But It Made Me Painfully Self-conscious For A Long Time.

I Think What It Is Is, If You're In School And You're Not That Bright Or Good-looking Or Popular Or Whatever, And One Day You Say Something And Someone Laughs, Well, You Sort Of Grab Onto It, Don't You? You Think, Well I Run Funny And I've Got This Stupid Big Face And Big Thighs And No-one Fancies Me, But At Least I Can Make People Laugh. And It's Such A Nice Feeling, Making Someone Laugh, That Maybe You Get A Bit Reliant On It. Like, If You;re Not Funny Then You're Not...anything